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diacetyldemon · 8 months

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Touch from the Dark

Rating: E (18+)

Yandere!Sephiroth/Reader

Words: 3,279

Description: Nothing in your life matters besides submission, and Sephiroth wants nothing more than for you to find your true place in life and eternally submit to him. The small piece of your mind that's left won't let it happen, but it's not clear if that small piece will last.

AO3 link

this could be viewed as a sequel to my other fic, but i didn't write it with that in mind. i'll admit, i went a little crazy with this one. there's a lot of abuse, mindbreak, and non-con in this so you've been warned!

You don't have anything now, not even your thoughts.

This realization - this particular thought - isn't exactly a new one. You'd known it for so very long by this point, long after you've lost count of the days or the time or anything because nothing in your life matters anymore except submission. Nothing else matters.

It's something you've come to terms with, but for some odd reason, this time it feels especially brutal. The condemnation to a life of agony with a truly monstrous man was a bitter pill, but you swallowed it, the complete lack of agency. This time, however, the thought cuts like a wire through your brain, a shock to the system unreplicated since your initial capture.

Something deeper unsettles you - it comes to you as a vision of the future. The future feels vague, and fuzzy, almost like a far-away city. All it contains is you, and nothing. You've become nothing, no personality at all, a completely blank slate in the future, no thoughts or ideas or any original action, just an eternal cycle of yes-sir-of-course-sir, casually looping on, never changing, never stopping, never faltering. It makes you feel sick, in a way the whole situation hasn't before, like the disgust and fear and desire are rotting inside you, tainting everything else hour by hour. You try to squeeze the vision, the concept, out of your mind.

The thought came to you at the feet of Sephiroth. He was kicking you in the stomach.

You run your fingers over the deep bruises, flinching at the touch. It's not clear why you keep touching the wounds, but it makes you feel more real. (What is "real"? You don't know anymore.) A particularly tender spot makes a jolt of pain rush through you that’s so sharp you suspect he’s accidentally cracked a rib, and it doesn’t surprise you. It’s happened before.

There’s no point in trying to relax since you know it’s impossible. Since day one in this Godforsaken compound, you couldn’t relax, and that was likely the point. Over time, you’ve learned that if Sephiroth is anything, it’s calculating. Every square inch of the compound - the blankness of the walls, the lack of windows, the lack of clocks, the constant cold - is to help weaken you, break you down into what he wants you to be. His perfect little pet at the perfect little position - at his feet.

For a brief moment, there’s the echo of footsteps and you immediately straighten up, completely at attention. It’s funny, the little ways your brain has been trained to respond perfectly yet unconsciously. It was not an easy shift; at first, there was fight, at first there was soul, but now you’ve become insipid. Maybe that’s what you wanted this whole time. After so much pain and agony after breaking the rules, you realized you needed to wave the white flag, at least in most ways - you still had a little piece of yourself, seldom-seen, but still there.

However, over time, you can’t help like the little bit left is fading. Sometimes, entirely at random, you feel good about your situation. They’re so brief and fleeting yet intractably devastating, the idea that eternal submission is a great deal, that you love Sephiroth and everything he gave you. Yet they keep coming, and each time you get more and more concerned, wanting to punish yourself a thousand times over. You’ve lost your mind - in more ways than one.

Later in the day? Night? Sephiroth comes to you, again, as icy and mysterious as ever. He approaches you in your room, a small blank space with a (surprisingly comfy yet so incredibly cold) bed and not much else. There you sit, dumbly, and he doesn’t say anything; after looking at you for a few stomach-churning moments he reaches a hand up and strokes your hair, rather delicately. Initially, you attempted to avoid his gaze, but you quickly corrected yourself. Such a basic rule couldn’t be violated at this point, or he might actually make you pay the ultimate price. Then again, you’d deserve it.

He still hasn’t said anything, instead traveling his fingers down your jawline, trailing across your neck. After another moment of staring, and then he sits next to you and grabs you in a tangle of limbs to sit on his lap. Pain from your core immediately shoots through you, exceptionally sharp, and all you can do is whimper at the sensation and you notice the self-satisfied expression on his face. After the initial wave of pain, you relax, leaning against his toned chest, trying to breathe deeply enough to help cope with the stinging. He starts stroking your hair, again, and you suddenly feel very, very tired and extremely elated and satisfied. It’s hard to hide the weariness on your face, although you always looked weary so it’s not like much changed.

However, since Sephiroth seemingly knows you better than you know yourself, he seems to be able to tell the difference between actual tiredness and the general exhaustion that plagues your whole being. “Go to sleep”, he says, more a command than any sort of suggestion, but you obey; the tiredness in your body wouldn’t have allowed you to stay up anyway.

In the early phases of sleep, you feel your body being moved, clothes being methodically taken off, but you don’t even respond to it. It’s not even really on your radar anymore, so you simply plunge more deeply into dreamless sleep.

All you can do with your free time is wander the halls of the compound, counting steps and walls and the few pieces of furniture that you were allowed to have. You’ve read the few books here 15 separate times, it seems, so there’s not much else to do with your life. The true purpose of your life was right in front of you but you kept denying it. The cherry on top of the cruelty and sadness of your life was the simple fact that it had become nothing more than a waiting game - waiting for your master Sephiroth to arrive, whenever he did, and inflict whatever he saw fit upon you. It was a gamble, all day every day, and when he arrived this time, you wondered if you were gonna get lucky, but you knew you probably were going to lose.

He walks up behind you, slowly, and places his hands on your shoulders, and you flinch. It felt like you couldn’t compose yourself well, today. Tonight. Seemingly ignoring your mistake and leaning in closer, his voice suddenly seems thinner than usual, like a shadow of a whisper. “You’re almost there.”

“What?” Your voice is so quiet that you wondered if you even said anything.

He grabs your forearm, tightly enough to bruise. “Do not make me repeat myself,” he replies, the darkness immediately back in his tone. Your voice catches in your throat instead of being able to respond, and the punishment is swift; a sharp slap across the face, stinging brutally. In other words, you got what you deserved.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can squeak out. He lets go of you, and you stumble and fall suddenly, seemingly off balance. He begins to walk away, stopping only once to glance at you, in a sickeningly-familiar look of disgust, yet also affection - both affection out of pity, and a genuine, sick, disgusting, amazing love for you. Will you ever be able to return it?

“How pathetic.”

You, being the silly, sad, precious little thing you were, had to push the limits. You made a mistake. It was a serious mistake, and you knew it at the time but at the same time something had possessed you and you couldn’t stop it, it was like a forest fire, wildly out of control, completely consuming until there was nothing left -

“Just what were you thinking?” Sephiroth’s grasp on your hair is so tight, he practically picks you up off the ground. “I do all these things out of love, and this is how you repay me?”

“I - I -”

He drags you by the hair a few feet over, causing you to cry out in pain - he’s strong enough to rip the hair out of your head. He pulls out his sword, endlessly long and sharp, and holds it against your throat, just grazing the edge on your skin. “I thought you knew better than trying to leave me.”

You hiccup with sobs, again. The words won’t even come out of your mouth despite your best efforts, only coming out as an incoherent, sloppy mess of tears. The sword is still at your throat. “Perhaps I should break your legs,” he says, casually. All you can do is whimper in response, trying to plead with your eyes, although you knew it couldn’t outdo the sheer hatred in his.

He pulls the sword away from your throat, but quickly settles for a solid slash against your arm, making you squeal in pain and blood to pour down your arm. You think it’s deep enough for stitches - all the cuts you’ve gotten make you have a solid sense for these things. Redirecting his efforts, he slices through your clothes and gives you plenty of little cuts in the process, and you’re reduced to gasps, trying to get air through your abused lungs.

Wordlessly, he picks you up - all your wounds, and you scream in protest - and slings you over his shoulder like it’s nothing (it is nothing) and you love being nothing. He carries you over to your bed and roughly throws you down on it, making you writhe in pain, blood still leaking from your arm onto your bedsheets, tears freely flowing from your eyes. No sounds are in the room besides your desperate sounds of struggle.

He approaches the head of the bed briefly, wiping away your tears. “Poor thing,” he cooed, condescension dripping from each word. “Too stupid for your own good.” You offer a wheeze in response, and he slaps you so hard you swear you can feel it in your neck.

“I-I’m hic sorry!”

“You’re not,” he snaps back, wrapping his hand around your throat so tightly you begin to struggle for breath. “Don’t worry, darling, you will be.” You cannot wait.

He takes his jacket off, but not his pants (probably to make you feel more vulnerable in the nude), and grabs some ropes, beginning to tie you to the bedposts with ease. It’s hard not to struggle in response to the sheer pain, screaming louder than ever and the material of the rope seems to gnaw right through your skin. Blood is still leaking from your wound.

Admiring his handiwork for a moment, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, in a way that is far too delicate for the situation. “You’re perfect like this,” he murmurs, and you’re positively elated that you’re perfect for him notices the blood on your arm, trickling down all over it and soiling the sheets. He leans down and licks a bit off, making your wound stab you and making you whimper meekly. Before standing back up, he gets close to your ear and gives you a simple instruction.

“Embrace the feeling.”

You’re thinking you might know what he means.

Of course, since this is a punishment that you deserve, he quickly begins running his hands over your body, intentionally putting pressure on your most sensitive wounds, particularly the potentially cracked rib, making you scream and making him smile smugly. “We haven’t even started yet, and you’re screaming already.” The words put the fear of God and a deep excitement in you.

He retreats from your tear-blurred vision for a moment but quickly comes back with a flogger. You’re almost sick at the sight, knowing full well what’s coming already. Sensing the fear in you, he smiles, prideful and disgusting and beautiful. “I’m teaching you your place. I think you know it already”, he adds, and something stirs inside you. It’s not clear what.

He whips you, hard. You can’t help but scream and writhe in agony as he hits you hard enough to leave welts, and it feels like he’s practically ripping your skin apart. Not too long after the beginning, you lose the will to scream and are reduced to pathetic mumbling and sobbing, feeling the pain intensify over and over and over. It’s like he’s trying to kill you with pain alone, and maybe you’re willing to die.

Bordering on unconsciousness, the something inside you that was stirred is still kicking, deep inside you, and you’re almost as worried about what it is as the situation at hand. It’s strangely sick yet soothing, and you’re almost longing for it, even though you don’t know what it is, you seem to want it but also not want it and it’s all too confusing and you just want all of it to be over. But deep down, you don’t.

Suddenly, you are awoken out of your dream-state by another harsh slap to the face. “Pay attention”, he commands, anger clear in his voice, and punctuated with another slap for good measure. There’s a seemingly endless amount of red marks on your stomach on top of your wounds, stinging and making your heart beat faster than ever before, feeling like you may actually die this time, but you don’t want to. And you’re not sure why you don’t.

Staring blankly, you watch him reach down and pull his cock out in all its glory. It’s hard not to stare at his body for a moment - the almighty Sephiroth, so much power, so much strength…

He approaches the head of the bed and grabs a solid fistful of your hair with one hand, using the other to slap his cock against your face a few times. Instinctively, you try to shy away, but the hand in your hair guarantees that won’t happen. It’s another indignity in a series of indignities, and yet, it felt different than anything that he had done before.

“Open,” he commands, and you obey. All hell breaks loose as he immediately slams his cock down your throat, making you gag and tears well up in your eyes. He keeps your head nice and steady as he fucks your throat, seemingly trying to ram himself as deep as he could get. Violently, you gag and sputter, too distracted by the relentless assault on your throat to do anything to give him any sort of satisfaction. Still blocked by the last barrier in your mouth, he growls in frustration.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth and giving you a few more good cock slaps - getting even more spittle and saliva all over your face - he makes a second attempt. “Come on,” he says, voice unusually husky as he plunges into your mouth again. “Take it.”

Relaxing your throat as best as you can, he finally pushes past, causing you to essentially choke on his cock, and he leaves it in so you can thrash about for a few moments before withdrawing. Coughing violently, you writhe in pain, not only in your throat and body but also mentally. You felt as if you could almost reach out and touch it, this invisible thing you wanted oh so badly.

In the moments after his withdrawal, where you caught your breath and fought with your both physical-and-psychic pain, he was looking you up and down, admiring the sad mess you were.

“How disgusting.”

He reaches aside and pulls out a towel, roughly rubbing it against your face, to get most of the mess off of you, but not all of it, and it doesn’t make you feel much better about anything.

“Open,” he commands again, and you immediately comply for him to spit in your mouth. “There,” he says, stroking your hair. “Since you seem to like it so much.” The action didn’t sicken you as much as your immediate compliance did. The immediate compliance didn’t sicken you as much as the brief jolt of pleasure that came with obedience. What was happening to you?

In the back of your mind, you knew Sephiroth could feel the internal battle inside of you, but he gleefully let it rage on in favor of untying your legs, stroking them a couple of times, a strangely tender action in a moment like this.

“You’re right there,” he says huskily as his hands go up and down your legs. “All you need to do is embrace it.” Without much else preamble, he rams his cock inside of you, causing your eyes to roll back at the white-hot sensation of pain, mixed with pleasure. It was so much, everything everywhere all at one moment, and it makes you disgusted, but you love it. The combination seemed so strangely intoxicating, in a way you couldn’t put your finger on but all you knew is it made you feel good.

“So wet for me already,” he chuckles, running his hands across your body, triggering quiet protests from your wounds. As soon as he starts moving, his pace is fast and ruthless, slamming into you so hard that the pain in your wounds scream out and you’re reduced to mumbling as he scrapes the edges of your cunt. The lewd, wet sounds fill the room, but everything seems so strangely out of focus…

A jolt of pleasure goes up your spine as he reaches down to rub your clit, making you feel even more overwhelmed yet deeply satisfied as if you’ve sated some deep need. There’s a sudden wave of euphoria flowing over you, and you realize Sephiroth is doing you a favor, giving you the greatest gift of all - the position at his feet.

After that single thought, you cum, clamping down on him, genuine moans of pleasure leaving your throat for the first time in forever. He doesn’t slow down, ramming into you for another solid, sweaty minute while overstimulation begins to kick in and make you squirm before cumming inside you, completely flooding your cunt.

He pulls out, watching cum ooze out of your abused hole with complete satisfaction. You lay in front of him, completely exposed, twitching and bruised and beaten but satisfied - almost perfection in his eyes. You weren’t perfect, not quite yet, but you had made major strides. It seemed it was all beginning to take, and he couldn’t have been more overjoyed.

However, much like all his internal mechanisms, Sephiroth doesn’t express anything. He stands up and dresses himself, leaving you tied to the bed overnight. Yet before he leaves, he pulls you in for a deep kiss, tongue plunging into your mouth and you replied eagerly, suddenly unable to get enough of him.

Once you’re untied - seemingly in your sleep, since you don’t ever recall seeing him - you’re completely at peace. It dawned on you that what you wanted, what you needed, had been there all along. Once you finally got your strength back to walk (took a couple of days, but you needed the lesson), you strode around the compound still feeling empty, but not for a lack of freedom. It was a lack of Sephiroth. In fact, you had realized you had achieved complete freedom in slavery, nothing else mattering in your world except submission.

Even through all the agony and abuse and pain, your loyalty could never falter. He loved you even when you were a bloody mess on the floor, having to pay the price for your transgressions. He loved you through all your weakness and whininess and insubordination. You weren’t perfect, not yet, but you were determined to be, all for him. You loved Sephiroth.

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #sephiroth/reader #sephiroth #yandere sephiroth #my writing #yandere #the era of sephirothposting is back

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invierno-inferno · 11 months

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rating Lovejoy songs based on how aspec they are

(disclamer: a lot (most) of these are a stretch. but nothing is more powerful than an aroace who wants representation.)

Are You Alright?

Taunt: off to a bad start- the only remotely-aspec-if-you-squint line is 'did anybody ever say no to you?' which implies that the singer is rejecting the subject of the song. why? aromanticism or asexuality, maybe. along with the general theme of running away in this song, although that's also a reach. 1.5/10.

One Day: again, not much. the song is about the singer's romantic partner not being good for him, which is a pretty common topic for a song. the idea of wanting to be in a relationship despite it not being good can apply to aspec people, but overall this song doesn't give much. 1/10

Sex Sells: now we're getting somewhere! I see this song as a story that 'call me what you like' and 'it's all futile! it's all pointless!' are also about: an asexual alloromantic and allosexual aromantic trying to make a relationship work. in this song, it's obvious that the singer and the subject want different things from the relationship- the more relevant of this song is that the subject prioritizes sex, which the narrator does not want. pretty aspec! 7/10

Cause for Concern: honestly, this song's got nothing. a banger, but not aspec. 0/10

Pebble Brain

Oh Yeah, You Gonna Cry?: definitely less to go on, but I hear this song as the singer helping his friend to break up with her boyfriend by implying they have the beginning of a relationship. maybe a sort of prequel to the 'sex sells' story. 4/10

Model Buses: the lines 'you're just scared/you're just scared of the future' is often something paraphrased by aphobes, invalidating their orientation by saying things like 'you're afraid of growing up' and 'you're afraid of commitment'. pretty aspec, but it is only a couple of lines that probably weren't intended to be read this way. 3/10

Concrete: not much of anything. 0/10

Perfume: that's what I'm fucking talking about. 'seems like all her friends/abruptly fell in love/and she was in the dust/darling, life was streaming past/so she learned to lie/she learned how to pretend/a drama in the futile/a means to an end'. it's aro! it's aro. to quote the writer of the song, 'you aromantics need to read my lyrics! listen to it's all futile! it's all pointless! and figure out what it's about. and perfume.' super aro, however it's only half a verse. 8/10!

You'll Understand When You're Older: same deal as 'model buses'. a lot of aspec people, particularly teens, are invalidated by being told that they are late bloomers. 3/10

The Fall: love this song, there's nothing aspec though. 0/10

It's All Futile! It's All Pointless!: aro. it's SO aro. see the quote above about perfume and iafiap. also, an entire verse explicitly about not being in love! subject is almost definitely alloaro. and general themes of doing what society tells you, despite you being unhappy with it. 11/10, aro anthem.

Wake Up & It's Over

Portrait of a Blank Slate: not super aspec. however, 'how do you all make it look so easy?/open your hearts up so quickly, it scares me' sounds arospec to me! 4/10

Call Me What You Like: this is the last song of the story that starts with 'sex sells'. some especially aspec lines include 'you could kiss the skin from my lips if it makes you feel good/not sure if you want it, not sure if you need me, too'. the first line implies that the narrator is indifferent towards sex and/or romance, and engages in it only if his partner wants to. in the second line, he wonders if his partner values him in the relationship. 'I'm not made for you/but what else is new?/oh lord, she tells me that it's nothing/I really hope it's nothing' to me references the narrator and the subject experimenting to figure themselves out- 'what else' could be new is romantic feelings. the narrator hopes there aren't any. 6/10

Consequences: One of my favorites, but there's not much here. Maybe 'I wish I tried more/wish I tried more/wish I tried' in reference to a romantic relationship, which some aro people can relate to by thinking that if they had 'tried harder' to be in love, the relationship would have worked. Kind of a stretch, though. 1.5/10

Warsaw: at first glance, there's not much but if we look closer... the subject is unhappy in her current relationship, (a common theme in Lovejoy's songs) and is sleeping with strangers, which is the same situation as 'call me what you like' and by extent iafiap, in which the subject is likely alloaro. 'the place that she got her first kiss is now a vaccination clinic' also supports that the subject of this song is the same as the one in iafiap, cmwyl, and sex sells- same meaning as 'what was your thought when you realized you'd never feel naïve love again?'. (I know I said cmwyl was the last in the story- I feel like this isn't solid enough to definitely be a part of it). my argument's a bit weak. 5/10

Scum: 'no matter how much you think you love him/you'll still flinch when his blood pool touches you.' can't figure out how to explain this one, but you get it. 'maybe he'll be jesus/maybe he'll be jesus this time.' 'jesus' in these lines might mean The One- maybe this person will be the one, maybe this relationship will be the one. I'd group this song in with model buses and you'll understand when you're older, just a couple one-off lines. 3/10

It's Golden Hour Somewhere: 'they'll tell you this is normal/they'll tell you this is love/I'm not sure if the stuff I want is even worth the price it comes'. again, can't describe it, just seems aspec. 2/10

#lemme know what you think #if yall see them any other way #of course most of the lines i pointed out were meant another way #it's music though it's subjective #aromantic #asexual #lovejoy #lvjy #are you alright?#pebblebrain #wake up & it's over

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makibeni · 1 year

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Ch. 2 -A Parting Gift

A few steps from the door Kobeni let out a sigh, one of relief although it almost seemed like she was holding her breath.

"You alright Kobeni?"

"Y-yeah..."

She wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come out. She felt anxious and a little afraid, no, intimidated by Makima. Why was she staring at her like that? It's like she was sizing her up or something, was she in trouble? Why else would they get called up to her office, it's not like that report had anything in it worth reading. No, it was them, she wanted to see them, right? But she totally ignored Hirokazu, it's like she didn't even register his presence, she was just staring directly at Kobeni the entire time, and it made Kobeni's heart race. A second longer and she might have...

Hirokazu's hand waved in front of Kobeni's face snapping her back to reality.

"You sure you're alright? You seem kinda shook up, something you wanna talk about?"

"N-NO! I mean... I'm fine, really, t-thank you, I think I'm just going to go home"

"Eh!?"

She darted to the side and bolted for the stairs before Hirokazu could even form a thought, running like her life was on the line.

She leaned her back against the wall outside, catching her breath. She wasn't exactly good at social interaction at the best of times but it had been a while since she just up and ran away from someone mid conversation. If her family wasn't expecting her to send money she would have strongly considered quitting on the spot to avoid having to explain herself to her coworkers the next day, although that somehow wasn't the worst of it. Just what was that scene in miss Makima's office? Why was she staring at her like that? Did her eyes ever move off her? She was too anxious to make eye contact so she wasn't quite sure. What did it mean? Was she mad at her for something? Was her job on the line? Was this all a test? If she gets fired it'll look even worse than if she quits, where's she going to find a job then? She's probably going to end up working at some run down fast food chain putting in overtime just to pay rent, and her family's definitely going to disown her and then, and then, and the....

"boo"

Makima stood next to her with head tilted looking at her.

"GWAAAA!??"

"sorry I startled you, you just looked like you needed it"

"M-m-mm-m-mi-m-miss Ma-ah-a-m-m-Makima!??"

"I heard some commotion outside my office, then saw you outside and figured I'd come check on you"

"I w-was jus... I m-mean I... I... I. . ."

She tried to force words out, any words. She felt like someone had just thrown a time bomb and a pair of pliers into her lap. She could feel herself loosing control of her body, her knees were trembling, her hands were shaking, she felt like she was about to start crying.

Makima wrapped her hands around Kobeni's waist and gently rested her head on her shoulder, every panicked thought in Kobeni's mind was dashed away in an instant, completely overtaken by this new sensation, so overwhelming her brain didn't know how to begin processing it.

Makima released her grip and took a step back, then looked into Kobeni's eyes. She was more sure of it now, of herself and of her own feelings, it would be all too easy for her to dominate her, turn her into another one of her dogs, but as she stared into Kobeni's eyes something stopped her. She didn't want another dog, she wanted something different, something she couldn't just dominate a person for, something only this woman could give her, and only of her own free will... But it's not something she was able to give her just yet.

"I need to get back to work, see you tomorrow Kobeni"

She left her with a parting smile and headed back inside, as Kobeni's knees finally gave out and she slumped onto the floor with a blank expression on her face. She felt even more unsure of things now but at least she'll probably get to keep her job, and the embrace managed to make her forget about her preceding worries. She could still feel a hint of Makima's warmth on her body, a whiff of her scent on her clothes, left behind like a parting gift. A kiss of red flushed upon her cheeks as she tried to remember the hug but it was too overwhelming for her to focus on, it was still to fresh for her. She shook the thought from her mind and went to stand, dusting herself off and walking over to her car.

#makima x kobeni #kobeni #makima #chainsaw man

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marypsue · 11 months

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16 and 21 for the fic ask meme

[from this meme]

16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles?

There are two possible times I come up with titles: either as soon as the premise lands in my head, or when I am staring down the draft on AO3 and about to post it. There is no in-between.

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

Here's my little secret: I don't delete anything anymore. Anything that doesn't work where I'm trying to put it gets copied and pasted into the very end of the document where the story lives, after about half a page of blank space from the last line of 'real' writing. Then I have it, preserved in amber, for if I get another twenty scenes in and realise that I need something and that thing that I cut out twenty scenes ago is exactly the thing I need.

(This happens more often than you might think. I completely cut about 2/3 of the final chapter of the road goes ever on, thinking I'd have to rewrite it from scratch. Nope! Just had to chop up those 2/3 of a chapter that I cut, rearrange it like a maniac with a corkboard and some red thread, and write a handful of interstitial sentences. And now it reads like it was always meant to be that way, and I can't even remember where all the stitches are. Ain't writing neat?)

To answer the spirit of this question and not the letter, though: yeah, all the time. Part of that is because I keep scenes that I cut, and if I really love them, I'll often find a way to work them in somewhere else (or into something else), so it doesn't feel like quite as much of a permanent sacrifice as it might. Part of that is because...well, have a story.

I'm a fresh baby adult. I have just recently graduated high school, and now the full weight of everyone's expectations of what I'll do with my 'potential' and everyone's disappointment that I don't have a clear, safe career path planned out yet are resting directly on my shoulders. I'm in a university art class. I'm very, very nervous, because I don't feel like a 'real' artist, because I don't feel like I belong here with all the good artists, and because I have a nervous perfectionist streak almost as wide as my entire body.

We are doing a unit on sculpture. I have never in my life done any sculpture, except for a couple of (extremely ugly) clay crafts in elementary school. We are assigned to take a rectangular block of styrofoam, and make an animal shape out of it. The kicker - we can't add anything to the block, only cut away.

I manage to make a reasonably decent-looking animal shape in my rough draft. But as soon as I try to translate it to the big block, it's immediately obvious that my design...lacks something. It's blocky. It's bulky. It's ugly. It looks...close to the shape of an actual animal, close to photorealism, but the fundamental rectangular-ness of it is so overwhelmingly strong. I'm carefully whittling away at the edges and the corners and the curves, scared to wreck it by making a big change, but nothing I do is helping at all.

Luckily, I have a very good art professor. Luckily, I have limited patience for fussing around with things that aren't working. (Luckily, I've been listening to MCR's Danger Days on repeat and it, especially the idea of 'Would you destroy something perfect to make something beautiful?', has been setting little fires in my brain.) Luckily, somehow, for whatever reason, I get fed up with nibbling around the edges and seeing no results. I get brave.

And I cut a deep curve into the side of my sculpture, cutting nearly half of the material away in one stroke.

The sculpture comes to life. The change is instant and obvious, and, more importantly, it's good. It's not anything resembling photorealistic anymore - if an actual animal was shaped like that, it would be very, very uncomfortable or possibly very dead - but it looks more like an animal than it ever did when I was going for 'realistic'. It has motion. It has visual interest. It carries the eye through the sculpture. And this massive improvement on the one side makes it suddenly extremely obvious where the rest of the sculpture needs similar cuts and angles to balance it.

I think I ended up getting a B or a C+ on that assignment. The sculpture turned out kind of wonky, with some angles that still didn't sit right. It was not a piece of timeless art. But that wasn't what was important. What was important was that I took a big risk, and got rid of what wasn't working, and it made something good. Something compelling. Something interesting. Something that, for all its flaws, I was much, much prouder of than the dull, safe thing I had been working on.

Sometimes, especially when you're just starting out as a writer, just starting to find your voice and feel confident in your work, every sentence feels precious and it feels dangerous to move or remove them, because what if you'll ruin it, what if you'll never make anything that good again. But if you're writing, it means you care enough about telling a story to try at it. Trying, and continuing to try, is how improvement happens. As Annie Dillard so beautifully put it, these things fill from behind. You will write something as good as that again. Many things, even. And even better things, so long as you keep plugging away at it.

And...you know your story. You know when something doesn't fit or isn't working, way deep down. The worst thing you can do for yourself is leave it where it doesn't belong anyway because you're scared of making a mistake.

#chatter #/descends from soapbox #writing #sorry this got long

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losingallchill · 1 year

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hear me out. beeduo divorce angst, hurt/no comfort, slow burn

WHAT THE FUCK WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME IM THE BIGGEST BEEDUO HURT/COMFORT ENTHUSIAST EVER

just to spite you im going to make it hurt you're going to bleed this is a threat and im writing about tubbo being a widow now fuck u fuck you /lh

idk how i can make it slow burn in a quick oneshot but i will try my best o7 ... anyway here you are i suppose sobs

it's Way too long lmfao lmk if i should put it on ao3 or something ahaha i went overboard w this ask i think i accidentally made it angsty in the "mourning" way and not in the "arguments and divorce" way but like-

━━━━━━━

duo: ranboo + tubbo genre: hurt / no comfort ; slow burn warnings: swearing , angst , emotional breakdowns , insecurities , tubbo hates being alone , character death prior to fic , tubbo centric , character dream mention wc: 1.5k

it had become part of his day to drown his thoughts out at every chance that he got. from surrounding himself with loud, chattering friends, to working over twelve hours in the facilities at home, tubbo had always made his surroundings louder than the thoughts in his brain.

even when he cooked for his son, and cleaned for his husband, he occupied his mind with talking and rambling, to prevent himself from thinking. it was a habit now, a way of life.

when the news came, that his home would never be loud ever again, tubbo’s mind, for once, went blank. it was as if everything he’d ever thought of had disappeared from his brain entirely. the only sound that he could hear was a silence that was too loud, all too loud, and it filled every part of his body with panic.

technoblade, the man who had come to his house to deliver the news, gazed worryingly at him. tubbo almost wanted the other man’s eyes to be filled with his usual scorn, rather than warm pity.

his hands, which were nestled in welding gloves, began to shake, and tubbo hid them behind his back as he stared at technoblade, his mind blank.

could no one else hear it? the silence that was creeping into his house, and seeping into his chest?

“tubbo?”

there was a heavy hand on his shoulder, and tubbo flinched, stepping away from technoblade.

“don’t touch me.” he hated how his voice shook, and he hated the hollow creaking of the floors as he stepped back. everything was loud, and everything was quiet, and he wasn’t aware of anything he was doing, all he was aware of was the silence and the noise and his brain, and technoblade, standing before him, pitying him.

but even as tubbo retreated into his house, technoblade stayed outside, rustling through his pockets to find something else. the world spun, but somehow tubbo remained upright.

“he had this,” technoblade said, holding out a photograph, the sun shining off of it, so tubbo couldn’t make out what it had on it, without getting closer. “i- i don’t know who this kid is, but-”

“that’s our son.” tubbo snatched the photograph from technoblade, and glared at him. “why do you have a photo of our- of my son?”

“what- i just told you- ranboo gave it to me before he died!”

“who killed him?” tubbo demanded, the silence getting too awful to bear. he needed to keep talking. hell, he needed to keep technoblade talking. “what- what happened, exactly? tell me everything.”

technoblade looked pained, and tubbo felt, for the first time, that he wasn’t the only one missing ranboo.

of course, he wasn’t the only one to mourn ranboo. ranboo was easy going and kind to everyone. it would make sense that even a hardened criminal like technoblade, one who despised everything that tubbo used to stand for, would mourn for someone as sweet as ranboo.

“can i come in? it’s a bit of a long story.”

and tubbo realized he was standing in the doorway, and moved to the side, allowing his former enemy to grace the safety of his home.

his hands shook, and tubbo only just realized that he still had his gloves on, and his welder’s helmet, propped up on his forehead, and he went into the kitchen to lay them both on the counter, before putting a kettle on the stove- ranboo’s kettle, he mused, miserably.

everything in the kitchen was ranboo’s, and he trembled as he poured hot water into two cups, and spooned in ranboo’s loose leaf tea, and added ranboo’s sugar, and raised ranboo’s teacup to his lips.

the hot tea that flowed down into his stomach was so warm, and tubbo didn’t know why, but it made him tear up, and it made him shake and fuck he was alone.

his husband was dead, and his son was missing, and his enemy waited in the other room, a grudging mutual respect between them due to their mutual friend.

but ranboo wasn’t just his friend. and that was what made tubbo hurt the most.

he’d lost his partner, his other half, the one who was supposed to be there when he needed him. his minutes man, his husband, his son’s father, his ranboo, his ranboo, his ranboo.

technoblade was waiting patiently when tubbo was able to muster up the courage to walk in, without looking like a complete mess. he carefully set down ranboo’s teacup for techno, and took a seat on ranboo’s favorite chair.

part of tubbo didn’t want to hear about this. part of him wanted to pretend like it never happened, that ranboo was going to return, covered in ender particles, like they usually were after a long day, coming back from taking michael outside.

but the other part of tubbo wanted revenge. he wanted revenge for ranboo, he wanted to torture whoever had mercilessly killed his husband in cold blood. death was too good for the motherfucker who left him alone.

as technoblade recalled the events of what had happened, tubbo found his fists clenching, tighter and tighter. he could feel his nails digging into his palm, his ears twitching with anger.

“he was a fucking pawn.” tubbo muttered, after technoblade had fallen silent. “he- you could’ve saved him.”

and technoblade looked so sad that it made tubbo feel sick. “i tried. the warden- sam- had this idea that dream cared about ranboo. but obviously, he didn’t. it’s dream. he just laughed and ran off.”

his mind was swirling. “so. you. you watched my husband get murdered. you let out my best friend’s tormentor from jail. and you have the audacity to ask me if i want your help in rescuing my kidnapped son.”

tubbo was small, especially in comparison to technoblade, who easily towered above him, even when sitting. but in his quiet anger, he felt powerful.

“you expect me to come groveling to you for help? you executed me. i still have dreams, technoblade. the fireworks appear to me in my dreams. this-” he pointed to his bad eye, which tommy had helped him bandage up, after he came back to. “this was because of you.”

to his credit, technoblade didn’t speak.

“i hate you. i want you gone, i want you dead.” tubbo spat, rising to his feet. “get out of my house.”

and technoblade rose, silently. there was so much pity in his eyes, that tubbo felt like he was drowning. as he reached the porch, he turned around, looking down at him.

“i know how grief feels, tubbo.” technoblade told him, his gaze far away. “i’ve suffered through it time, and time again. you can blame me, if you want, but it won’t make it any easier on you. his real killer is still out there, and you can’t take him alone. you know where i live, when you want to find your son.”

tubbo replied by slamming the door shut. he could hear technoblade sigh on the other side, and the steps as the older man walked off.

retiring back into his house, tubbo collapsed to his knees, his chest burning. he still remembered ranboo’s smile as his second life was taken. he remembered when he had found ranboo in the water, after his first life was gone. the water burns had taken him weeks to patch up, and ranboo had told him, with bleary eyes, about how he didn’t remember anything that had happened.

he took the photo out of his pocket, and looked at it, looked at the photo that ranboo carried around. the room that it was taken in was just upstairs, and it was quiet now.

normally michael would be running around upstairs. the small echoes of his footsteps rang in tubbo’s head.

it was cruel, that both of them were taken from him. cruel that the universe had decided to punish him, who had nothing to do with anything that had been happening.

if prime really was up there, then prime, she must fucking hate him.

too much, this was all too much. tubbo hugged his knees close to his chest, the photograph slipping from his grasp and landing gently on the floor. his vision blurry with tears, he let out an awful sob.

and if ranboo was here, he would be patting his back, he would be okay, he would be alive and he would be tubbo’s.

but no one was there.

tubbo was sobbing in the middle of his empty house, his entire body shaking. his husband had left him, and before that, he had been locked up, and tubbo hadn’t noticed a thing.

gasping for breath, tubbo’s mind finally continued working. and it hated him.

because if he had noticed ranboo’s absence sooner, wouldn’t he be alive?

was it all his fault, for being wrapped up in his own work?

isn’t it his fault that he’s alone? what goes around comes around, after all. prime loves karma.

#ask #ctubbo angst #ctubbo #cbeeduo #dsmp oneshot #i'm sorry but it's what the people want baby !!

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winterfireice · 1 year

Text

Kotlc Secret Santa 2022

I got @the-one-and-only-aroace so this is for you

Hope you enjoy! 💙💜💙💜💙💜💙

Link to my ao3 for ease

@song-tam thank you so much for hosting this was a lot of fun

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh, why is it that the entire day I've been thinking about my book with almost nothing else in mind but the minute I get home and actually have time to write my brain goes blank!” I push back in my chair exasperatedly throwing my head back so it's facing the ceiling. “I don't know inspiration strikes at random times I guess.” My little sister Amy says while writing in one of her music journals. My older sister Jolie is laying on my bed doing homework with earbuds in she probably doesn't even know we're talking, these two are some of the only people in my life that know that I write.

I've been writing a book for almost a year now and it's still nowhere near the end, it has all the things I love about fantasy, elves, goblins, ogres I've been thinking about adding gnomes too but haven't figured out how to incorporate them yet. It's taken an annoyingly long time mostly because of classes and the fact that I've been suffering from some major writer's block for the last couple of months.

Jolie rolls over taking her earbuds off and asks what we're talking about, “Sophie is struggling to actually participate in her favorite hobby.” Amy says not looking up, while I have been having trouble with writing my sister has been in a rush of inspiration. Amy has loved writing music since she got her first special notebook when she was seven and it had purple glitter on it. Over the last eight years, she has gotten much better and I couldn't be more proud. She even has created songs for my characters, one of the best birthday presents I've gotten, along with the drawings of them from Jolie.

Sitting here is doing absolutely nothing so I suggest we all go to the ice cream place down the street “I could use a break from my English paper.” Jolie replies closing her book. “I'm really getting into the groove here I don't want to mess it up, but I’ll come next time.” Amy says taking her eyes off her pencil for the first time in hours. “Ok,” I tell her “do you want us to bring you anything?” “Vanilla with Carmel and mini marshmallows please” Amy gives me her iconic aren't I the best little sister even though she's not doing anything. ”You got it.” I say as Jolie grabs her car keys and purse from across the hall.

The ice cream place has only been here for about a year but it’s become a regular spot for us, it's great for study breaks or a meet-up place, plus has some of the best ice cream I've ever tasted.

We order and sit down at a table by the window, my biggest problem right now is that my story doesn't really have a plot or a main goal, I have a feeling for what I want it to be. As stupid as that sounds but it’s the only way I can explain it. And I know I shouldn't be rushing the creative process but I want to write so badly I just can't. I find it extremely infuriating. “Hey sis what's up, your face is super scrunched up and you look like you want to remove all of your eyelashes.” Jolie says reaching over to remove my hand from my eyes. “Talk to me” she straitens her back like she's about to go into an interview.

“I don't know I guess it's nothing, I'm just getting tired of being blocked all the time,” I tell her looking out the window. “Hey don't say it's nothing this is something important to you and it's bothering you. You have been working on this book for a really long time, I should know I hear you grumbling to yourself at all hours of the day about it” She says the last part with a look of possible annoyance. “I just feel like I don't know my brain is working against me.” I explain “like it's betraying you?” Jolie adds “Exactly! That's the best way to explain it-” I trail off thinking and then jump up excitedly “Thank you, thank you that's actually perfect, major help” I start hurrying to the door and I hear Jolie say something to the waiter about getting to go containers.

We drove to the ice cream place but our house is close enough that with running I get home within ten minutes and run to my room barely saying anything to my parents. “Wow that didn't take long at all, do you have my food?” Amy looks up a bit surprised because of my quick reappearance. “I love you but I need you to be quiet for a little while if you're in my room, also I think Jolie will be back soon with your ice cream.” I'm putting in my password and opening my writing software “I guess inspiration struck” Amy says while grabbing her stuff and closing my door while she leaves with a smile on her face.

When Jolie talked about betrayal I thought about how interesting it would be if my main character ends up betraying everyone to save the world ending up sacrificing herself and no one ever knows.

I end up passing out around six am with a mostly finished book and end up writing the ending after I get some actual sleep and start editing it.

My sisters come in around ten am both sitting on the bed not even saying anything just falling into a familiar routine, Jolie starts to sketch and Amy is humming a new song, and every once and a while she writes down a new line in her notebook.

“Thanks, you guys.” I say to them. “For what?” they both ask at the same time “For you two helping with my book, which I've almost finished now but also for just being great sisters.” Jolie and Amy look at each other before tackling me in a hug “Your also an amazing sister” Amy says “Now can we please read your book?” Jolie asks when I nod they both push my rolly chair out of the way so they can see my computer better, I laugh to myself while I wait for them to tell me their thoughts.

#also holly I tried to gift it to you on ao3 but you have that feature off #kotlc #kotlc secret santa 2022 #sophie foster #stand for dadwin 💙#amy foster #jolie ruewen #fire the canons

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olivethetreebitch · 1 year

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I have more Judai and Yubel things

So here as I go to bed, because I’m pretty sure there’s only 1 mutual that’s in my time zone, or everyone has regular sleep schedules because nobody’s here-

Because it’s 1am on a Friday what else am I supposed to be doing.

So here are some things, not all, I have more, but here are a few.

Judai has an unhealthy obsession with stickers, like, an ungodly amount of stickers will cover their stuff at any given point. (The self made stickers because he couldn’t just go and buy them all the time seeing as he was in the bubble for most of his childhood) but he’s pretty good at not getting stickers on things that aren’t theirs, like the bedposts or the desk- or anything of Sou’s or any other roommates

Judai can copy things they see through drawing, like cannot for the life of him actually draw something from memory, but drawing something in front of them? Easy.

(I’m projecting here shush)

Atem and Yugi are uncannily good at every game like ever- (Yugi has a continuous hyperfixation on games of all kinds you cannot convince me otherwise) and so Atem teaches both Judai and Yubel how to play multiple games. Like- if you have a niche game that needs love and you want to write about it? Here. They’re learning okay- (creative freedom!!!!)

Judai and Yubel both are not supposed to be in the human realm *fundamentally* no spirits are, they’re ment to be in the spirit realm, like how humans aren’t supposed to be in the spirit realm.

The spirits use the cards as a kind of grounding, something to tie them into the human realm and to lessen the magical strain it naturally takes to exist on the other side, well. The Yubel card is to small to hold both their soul functionally. So Judai uses the darkness to continue to keep themselves in the human realm. But they can just hop over to the spirit realm at any point.

Like, using actual shadows to fill in the opaque blanks, because sometimes the universe has more pull then other times.

So Yubel is immortal and also a duel spirit, so when they fused Judai also became both of those things by default. Immortal Judai >:D

The Bubble(tm) as I am now calling it is as I’ve said, basically Atem’s personal bubble dimension, which is symbolic to their soul and only exists to those who can access his soul, and the way to a spirit’s soul is ether through a contract or through their heart. At least human wise, spirits can hop on in at any point (like traveling to any different spirit realm)

So those who are in their heart, those he cares about, can enter his realm.

Anyways it’s a pyramid. Because he’s a dead pharaoh.

……..

Anyways, the outside sands are really hot, to hot for Judai and Yubel (also there’s no shadows) so they end up staying inside during the day and exploring the outside realm at night. Baby Judai would burn and nobody wants that.

This is not my own idea, (@thatlocalbitch)

Judai is naturally nocturnal, basically he’s the gentle darkness, she they should thrive in the dark then? Naturally gaining energy the more darkness is around.

Also has cat eyes, I prefer using the orange/green eyes because anything referring to the Supreme King Judai would shy away from (not full fear, but a healthy caution) and also this isn’t about him it’s about Judai and Yubel sharing a brain cell.

Whenever someone takes a picture Judai attempts to close his eyes, because of the animal eye thing.

(Idea by @shitpostingkats)

Judai is an ADHD stimmer, and will pop every bone and joint in their body, however they try not to be to obvious with the more spooky ones, the clacky nails are a must tho. That is not changing.

(Tries to keep the nails less then claws and more just badass nails)

https://at.tumblr.com/olivethetreebitch/shitpostingkats-now-ive-made-it-pretty-clear/dwywuysgq7lk

Eldrich horror!Judai is ready to destroy every main villain of the entire GX series before they even have a chance to hurt the main cast. However, it is up to the writer to include which ones or create their own villains, full creative freedom here.

Tbh, Judai is just trying to get through this highschool journey without any major issues, has tried to prevent as many problems as they could without screwing up the timeline to much. (Like having specific people meet and stuff)

Judai and Yubel communicate through mental, verbal, and emotional messages. They’ve been doing it for more than 10 years and at this point they’re finishing each others sentences, if one doesn’t even say anything the other will get up and get the bottle of water they asked for. Without a word being said, or someone will ask a question mentally and the other will respond verbally. They are a functioning unit (most times)

They squabble like siblings your honer.

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matrix-level · 2 years

Text

a siren’s song

jason is a siren in a world where everyone believes that vampires are fake (though if they were real they would sparkle) and that mermaids only exist in fairytales, so jason has only ever told one person outside of his dead family his secret, but they ended up dead just as well.

he’s not the conventional, stereotypical siren that everyone thinks of when discussing such a creature, but that doesn’t change the fact that he shouldn’t exist, so he keeps this piece of himself close to his chest, and holds it even tighter to him when he starts becoming close to one nico di angelo.

nico, who he trusted and who he promised he wouldn’t lie to. nico, who’s pale skin was especially illuminated in the sunlight. nico, who had slowly started getting more and more protective over jason, which left the siren reeling because nobody had ever done that for me, was like that on my behalf. no one. should…can i tell him? would he…would he be different?

he spends minutes, hours, days, weeks agonizing over the possibility that nico wouldn’t run for the hills or end up dead as soon as jason’s secret was said aloud out into the air, and it increasingly becomes harder and harder to not just blurt it out because he’s starting to love nico in a different way, a heavier, more intimate way, and they’re always there for each other, always supporting one another and having the other’s back. they’re in constant proximity, nico’s small smiles taking up jason’s entire world.

jason is falling and screaming underwater, his blue eyes shaky in their sockets as he considers just- suppressing the siren parts of himself forever. he could do it. it would hurt, and it would rip him apart every full moon, but he could do it. especially if it was for nico, his precious nico who held him when it stormed in his heart and who believed that he would catch him when he fell (he would, and he has. nothing could stop jason from being there to catch nico).

then, one night, nico confronts him, unusually nervous, but still determined all the same. he declares that he knows jason is hiding something from him, and that he doesn’t appreciate the fact that jason is holding something back when they had established at the start of their friendship that they’d never hide anything from each other unless they had a conversation about why they couldn’t tell the other about whatever secret it may be. when all jason does is stand there, his eyes empty, expression blank, and stance stiff, though not in a standoffish way, but rather an automatic, almost default way, nico’s fists unclench and he sucks in a sharp breath.

his dark eyes drink in the bags under jason’s eyes and how greasy and unhealthy his hair looks. he notices how tight the lines of jason’s body are, as if jason doesn’t want to be there anymore, within his own skin, on the same plane of existence he’s walked along his whole life. nico can feel the worry that’s been building in him since he first started noticing jason’s strange behavior increase tenfold, and just as he opens his mouth to tell jason, you know what? the secret could wait. jason needed to shower, drink some water, and get some much needed rest, then they could talk, jason…begins to sing.

his dark, broken blue eyes crack further and start to glow gold. his hair lifts from where it’s limply sitting on his head, and floats around his head as if they were in zero gravity. lyrics flow smoothly past chapped lips, and his green blue veins pulse with a golden rhythm beneath his tan skin. his glasses, where they crookedly sat low on his nose, glint in the light he gives off, and nico can only gasp as he feels what he knows is jason’s gentle touch brush against his cheek and through his hair warmly, fondly, golden light filling his vision and sweetly wrapping around his brain where it landed after traveling through his ears.

the words were lost to him as the crooning melody tells him to sway, to follow its orders, and he finds that he would rather do nothing else. when the rising vocals demand he turn, walk forward until he reaches the nearest wall, and punch it so hard a dent forms around his shaky fist, there is no hesitation, there is no deliberation, there is no questioning. he does all these things with a pretty euphoria pulling and pushing inside him, musical pleasure tugging at his ear drums and whispering where it swirled around him.

then, it all just…stopped. the gold was sucked away from him, his fist dropped from where it had stuck itself to the wall, and the golden euphoria flew its way out of him, the room they were in once again dim in its lightning and cold as a result of the AC.

nico turns, his chest heaving with the panting breaths that tore through his lungs, his whole body a bit shaky and a singular thought circulating through his mind.

“what the fuck just happened?”

he looks at jason, and he easily finds his answer.

that was the secret. jason is extraordinary, supernatural, full of power, and the blonde held himself now as if he just knew that nico would hate him, would yell at him, would storm away and wish he had never become friends with him. nico’s feelings are chaos where they tangle in his chest, but his mind is clear as he takes a step forward, and then all of the steps it takes to reach his friend, his jason, his everything, and hold his face in his hands, where he then kisses the blonde’s forehead.

“sing for me, again, if you want. if you can.”

jason closes his eyes as quiet tears slip past his eyelids, and he barely registers nico’s warm thumbs wiping away the salty tracks as they form. he smiles, and then he sings.

“why don’t you love who i am? what we could have been?”

p.s. (extra little continuation, if you want that) nico presses his forehead to jason’s, and under his breath, so that only jason could hear (the universe was listening, he knew. it wasn’t allowed to hear this), he murmured, “you could never get rid of me, no matter how many times you make me punch a wall or sway in place with your magical voice. you’re mine. will you allow me to be yours?”

jason just continues to sing, but when he clasps his hands around nico’s thin wrists, his thumbs swiping against nico’s pulse, nico knows that jason wants to say yes. wants to love nico as something that sings, not someone who listens. he grins and smushes jason’s face a bit with his firm grip on his cheeks, and jason manages his own weak smirk.

“you ripped out all my parts.”

nico began to wonder if the song related to them at all, before they had each other, but that train of thought was cut off when jason kisses the tip of nico’s nose, which is enough to make nico want to punch his golden boy in the throat.

he refrains. but only just so.

he’s prepared to keep refraining from decorating jason’s pretty face with a black eye for the rest of their lives, and based on the grin that’s pushing against nico’s nose, nico can guess jason is just as ready for the challenge.

‘challenge? hah! as if! you wish, golden boy,’ nico thought cockily, his eyebrow raised.

though they both knew the statement was pointless. it wasn’t a challenge, afterall.

jason always won.

#jason grace #nico di angelo #sorry if nico seems ooc or if this piece seems rushed i’ve never written nico before and i wrote this whole thing at like 3 AM #jasico #i love them sm omfg #next is jercy get ready y’all that one’s also sad asf #omg just realized i never wrote out jason’s full capabilities as a siren lmao get rekt myself #whatever i’ll just write smth with siren!jason later that explains everything

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smoreboi · 2 years

Text

tw: self harm, mentions of kms, dissociation (i think?), anything else i miss im sorry for

trying to figure out what exactly it is i said/did that got my therapist today at the end of our (third) session to ask me for the first time if id ever been diagnosed with anything or was on any mind medications, heres the top runners:

I really just wanna go skydiving before finals because I know that after jumping out of a plane, I'd be able to focus

i know what generalized upset feels like because everything feels strained and i just am incapable of speech and involuntarily hit myself when im upset, but i dont know what the difference between like, sad, angry, and unsettled is

no, when i have weeks of lows i dont ever act on any thoughts to kms, but like,, if a car was going to run into me i wouldnt do anything to stop it

when im having the higher emotions, i do more high energy motions, got suddenly excited a few weeks ago and ran a few laps around campus, and i'll typically make more involuntary motions and noises too

repeatedly referring to my consciousness, meat sack, and brain as all separate entities

i just kinda feel things, i have a really hard time understanding actual emotions

i think im typically pleased with my life, but on the regular day to day, i wouldnt so much say im happy so much as im blank, and then i'll either stay blank or take a ride through high and low emotions

when im in the serious lows, im typically not thinking anything. its too much effort so i just dont do it. mind is entirely empty when im seriously low

recently ive been using the rain as resets when i am in lows, because my self care will go down when im at a low, but at the same time, i know that if i go and lay on the ground for like 10 minutes while its raining then all functions will force me to do laundry and take a shower, same with like, drinking orange juice when i couldnt make myself talk a few days ago, i knew that drinking orange juice would give me high emotions so i did so that I could become talk capable again.

this is the stuff i can remember, it was an hour session so i know i said more

#mental health #therapy stuff

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freezy77 · 2 years

Text

I have always felt like a wildfire raging across a forest, reaching and consuming everything around. I have felt both out of control and uncontainable and destructive and relentless all at once. I lived in chaos and war for so long anything else is unfamiliar and scary. I used to come here to this blank page to bleed out the pain or sadness or darkness when I felt like I was drowning and suffocating. Words and emotions would flow out of me like screams that I could keep away from everyone. Have you seen the fear in people’s faces when sitting around a campfire and they hear the lone wolf howl at the moon? No, of course the sound of my screaming and howling are only the dancing of my fingers across a keyboard under the cloak of night instead of audible howls.

But I stopped writing. I became so consumed with others, that I put my emotions and feelings in a box so that I could think of them and only them. And in that, once my emotions were locked away, I ceased to exist beyond what was needed of me. I watched my world crumble to pieces without leaving their sides. I watched myself wither away to fight for healing them.

And then I made the hardest decision to leave. I packed up what was left of my life, and I drove away. And every step since has felt like concrete. Every step has been stumbled with the twisting of ankles and tearing of tendons.

But then I met you. Ashton Blake, I feel like you cannonballed into my life scaring me with the waves you created. Once the water settles, my inferno sprang to life ready to receive you as we had every one else. And then you were nothing like anyone I had ever met. There was no mystery to you. You blazed into my life raw and open as the day you were born. And each day I spend with you only further confuses me and excites me. You create chaos in me that is new and unfamiliar. My soul reaches out to you while my brain panics about stranger danger. You make my body feel things while my mind screams at me to run. It’s intoxicating and infuriating. I want to run but I can’t tell if I’m running toward you or away. I just keep looking at you trying to find out all the parts of you.

And you. You are a wonderful, amazing, considerate, kind man. What do I do with you? You are insanely thoughtful and genuine and I’m almost sure you shouldn’t exist. There’s magic in you, did you know? It’s in your eyes that see the person they land upon and take them in with kindness, seeing their pain and happiness alike. Your magic flows from your fingertips as I watch you constantly helping. I feel it too, when your fingers dance across my skin. You watch the world around you as a man with scars and yet you look for opportunities to manifest sunshine and kindness. You enter a room, and your calm reaches out soothing those around you. Your smile uplifts the broken hearts. Your hugs put the shattered pieces back together again. You are magic without card tricks or spells or a wand. It is your entire being. Not many have magic like you, who carry the scars of the past as kindly and gently as you do. There are too few words to really encompass you. You are human and flawed and that’s the magic. That those amazing things can all simultaneously exist within one body, one heart. Within you.

#AshtonBlake #my home

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zafirosreverie · 2 years

Text

LBTS: The moon (Julieta x Fem!Reader)

1st part || The sun || The stars || The eclipse

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I'm not going to kiss her"

Julieta stopped at the door when she heard your voice from the patio and her feet immediately changed course. It was still a surprise to her the effect you had on her whole being since the day she met you in town when you ran to look for her because Bruno had hurt himself.

She remembered perfectly well what a surprise it was for her to see how truly concerned you were for him. You hadn't even bothered to introduce yourself or anything, you just took her hand like you'd known her all your life and led her to Bruno.

Most people wouldn't even bother to go with her after telling her that one of her siblings was hurt, but you? You had stayed there the entire time, making sure Bruno was okay before pulling him into a tight hug and scolding him for scaring you.

The next thing she knew, you were introducing yourself and your eyes had roamed her entire soul. You had the warmest smile and the most beautiful laugh that she had ever known and something just happened at that moment. Maybe it was the fact that you were the first person who treated her little brother with respect and affection, maybe it was that you had been interested, not in her gift, but in her and her love for cooking, maybe it was that you didn't have huge expectations of her, you just wanted to meet Julieta Madrigal, the girl, not the healer. Maybe it was all that and more, she wasn't sure, but suddenly it had been impossible to stop thinking about you.

So now, she couldn't afford not to see you when you were literally feet away from her. The brunette wasn't too surprised when she saw you in disguise with her brother. Another thing she loved about you was that you didn't care what others might think of you and you would always be by Bruno's side in his sometimes childish plays and games. You were happy and you made him happy and therefore Julieta was also happy. She loved watching you perform.

"Julita!" You greeted her as soon as you saw her.

As you approached her, the brunette tried to keep a neutral smile, grateful that the dark color of her skin well hid the blush that she felt growing rapidly on her cheeks.

"Hello Y/N" she smiled at you

"You're just in time!" you said excitedly "come, we needed one more"

The oldest triplet let you drag her over to the boards you were using as a makeshift stage, too busy keeping the feel of your hand in hers in her mind.

"Julieta?" Bruno asked

"Why not?" you shrugged "we need someone else"

"What about Bessie?"

"Nuno, you know I love you, Bessie knows I love her too, but I'm not going to kiss a rat" you said with your arms crossed and a straight face.

Julieta let out a soft squeak as her brain registered the word "kiss." What were you planning to put her in? And more importantly, was she going to accept?

"Well, you miss out on Bessie's acting skills" your best friend shrugged.

"So" you turned to Julieta with a smile "Would you be my princess?"

"W-what?" she gasped, she was sure her blush was now evident

"I'm the prince, Bruno is the wizard, and we need a princess" you explained "And you're already beautiful, so you're perfect"

The brunette didn't even register the moment she nodded and she didn’t even mind that it was a kiss on the cheek. Her mind just went blank throughout the play, only focusing on the fact that you had called her beautiful.

___________________________

"Mom...can we talk?"

Alma turned to see her oldest daughter fiddling with the edge of her apron, something that told her the girl was nervous. Julieta was the quietest and calmest of her children, always the most responsible and mature. Seeing her like this, like a lost child, worried her.

"Is something wrong, mija?"

"N-no" the girl assured quickly "it's just…I've been thinking and…remember when you said we should start thinking about the future? Find someone to…you know"

The older woman was surprised. She had had a talk with her three children about marriage and children, hoping to add to the Madrigal lineage as soon as possible, and although Pepa had had a few boyfriends here and there, neither Bruno nor Julieta had.

Her youngest son tried, for the good of the family, to woo a few girls, but his gift always ended up driving them all away (which is why she had been delighted to see you being so close to him when she first met you), while Julieta simply wasn't interested in anyone. Some guys caught her attention, but not enough to return their affections. So this, this was a surprise.

"Did you find someone, mija?" she asked bluntly

"I…well…I think so" Julieta murmured, she felt her face heat up and she couldn't take her eyes off the ground.

"Well, that's wonderful!" Alma said to her proudly "Who is the lucky boy? Is he handsome? Although you are beautiful, mija, I should not worry about my grandchildren's appearances. Treating you well and making you happy will be enough"

Julieta felt her heart stop at her mother's words. She was used to this, to having such high expectations placed on her shoulders, and would usually go out of her way to meet her mother's standards. But this was different, she wanted to decide on this and for once, she took the courage to speak up and choose her own happiness.

"Mom" she spoke a little louder to stop the other woman's tirade "I…she's not a man" she said as gently as she could.

The room went deathly silent and the tension could be cut with a knife. Alma looked at her daughter's face, searching for any sign of a lie. Perhaps her other children had finally managed to convince her precious Julieta to play a prank on her. Maybe she was just confused.

But her daughter's eyes told her no: this was real, this was what her little girl wanted. Her golden girl was in love with another woman. The silence lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours to Julieta and she felt her eyes sting with unshed tears.

"Who is she?" Alma finally asked, firmly but not coldly.

"...Y/N" the girl's voice came out in a whisper.

The Madrigal matriarch felt her blood run cold. Y/N. That sweet and tender girl in whom she had placed her hopes to have grandchildren from her Brunito. You, without knowing, had made the wrong triplet fall in love with you.

"Julieta-"

"Please" the girl begged "Please mom. I never ask you for anything, please let me have this"

She didn't know where she was getting the strength to go against her mother, to plead like this, but on the few times she had really thought about marriage, it was your face she saw and she knew that it was you or no one

"Why her?" Alma asked

Julieta came prepared for that specific question and she took a small piece of paper out of her apron pocket. She offered it to her mother with trembling hands. The older woman carefully unfolded the yellowed piece and found fine writing:

Never forget how perfectly imperfect you are, princess.

Alma looked at her daughter and Julieta simply went to the counter to take the jar of sugar and a small sack of flour. She held them out to her mother to open and the other was surprised to find two more notes:

Remember that even the moon has to rest. Take care of yourself, Julita<3

You are the most beautiful thing my eyes have seen.

"How did you-"

"She always leaves me notes in places she knows I'll be able to find them. On the tomatoes, the beans, the utensil drawer" Julieta explained "she reminds me to rest from time to time and...that I'm cute?"

Alma looked at her oldest daughter and felt a pang in her chest as she recognized the same look of love that she had once seen on Pedro. She knew that you were a wonderful girl, full of sweetness, but she had no idea that you would try so hard to take care not only of Brunito but of her sweet Julieta as well.

"Mija" she spoke carefully, taking her daughter's hands to make her look at her "are you sure?"

Julieta nodded "she...she makes me feel loved. She makes me happy, mom"

Alma sighed but squeezed the girl's hands in a comforting gesture. She would have loved to have grandchildren from Julieta, but she was nobody to deny love to her little girl.

"Then you have my blessing" she smiled at her.

Julieta's face lit up and she looked at her mother with a huge relieved smile. She couldn't believe it and literally threw herself into her arms.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are the best, mom"

Alma laughed and hugged her back "go find that girl" she told her "but come back before 10 o'clock"

Julieta broke away from the hug and simply nodded, turning quickly to go look for you, her heart beating at 1000 per second. The older woman got up and poured herself a glass of water to calm herself down a bit. This was a huge surprise, yes, but if it made Julieta happy, she could come to terms with it. Besides, she already adored you, so she at least was grateful that among all the girls that her eldest daughter could fall in love with, it was you.

She didn't expect that her other daughter, her precious sun, would arrive a few minutes later to throw her into a crossroads.

"Mamá, I want to marry Y/N"

#reader insert #x reader #imagine #julieta madrigal #julieta my beloved #julieta x reader #julieta madrigal x reader #julieta madrigal preference #madrigal triplets & reader #encanto #encanto preferences #encanto imagines #encanto x reader #loved by the sky

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

not shy

megumi was not shy around his crush — and that’s a fucking lie.

request: shy megumi who is really flustered around his crush + his friends and gojo-sensei helping him confess

note: this is fluff and a semi crack fic too LOL i hope you guys enjoy this, i had a lot of fun with this one! unedited too, as usual!

word count: 4.5k

masterlist !

playlist made by the lovely @savantsoulfinder thank you so much!

“Yo, Megumi-kun, can you take—” Satoru halted in his steps, following the trail of sight that his dark-haired student seemed to be so enamoured in to not even notice his teacher walk his way. “What are you staring at?” when his gaze landed on you, head thrown back in laughter and slapping Panda’s arm over Yuuji’s joke, Satoru’s eyes beamed even under the blindfold. “Oh? You like Y/N?”

Upon hearing your name, Megumi immediately snapped back to life. He scoffed and turned away from you, scowling to himself with his arms crossed against his chest. “No, I don’t. I don’t like anyone.” So defensive.

“Is that so?” Satoru teased while biting back his laughter, “Guess you won’t mind if I call her then. Hey, Y/N!”

“Gojo-sensei, what’re you doing?!” Megumi grabbed his teacher’s sleeve, whisper-hissing and cursing under his breath when Satoru caught your attention. You waved at them both, skipping until you were getting impossibly closer and closer and closer.

“Well, I don’t want you to carry these all alone. You’re gonna need some help.”

“I’m perfectly fine – h-hi.”

Shit, you were now here. You smiled up at him, hands folded below your bottom before tipping your head to the side, looking under Megumi’s ducked head to see his face. “Hey there, Megumi! Looking cute today,” you winked, causing the poor boy to blush madly. You never noticed, though, your attention now taken by your teacher turning red as he stopped his laughter. “Gojo-sensei! You called me?”

“Oh yeah, you’re just right on time. I was going to ask Megumi here to bring these books all back to my office but it’s probably too heavy for him so I asked—”

“It’s not heavy,” Megumi took the books that Satoru placed in your welcoming arms, the slightest touch sending jolts of electricity down his spine. He pulled away and clutched the books closer to himself at the sudden buzz, narrowing his eyes at his teacher who obviously couldn’t mind his own business. “I can carry it by myself.”

“I still wanna help, and I really don’t mind. Plus, I haven’t talked to you in a long time. I actually kind of feel like you’re avoiding me,” you pouted, and that simple gesture had Megumi feeling like he was sinking deeper into the ground.

He was ready for the whole world to swallow him up.

Satoru took pleasure in Megumi’s reddish ears and clenched jaw, cupping his own jaw with his hands as if to mock. “Aw, Megumi, why would you avoid precious Y/N? Did she do something wrong to you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, if there’s nothing wrong, you two better scoot before you get late to your other class!”

“Alright, see you around, Gojo-sensei!” Shit, why were you such a good girl? Now he was stuck with you, and Megumi huffed while hesitantly sharing the books with him. You walked close enough to him that he caught a slight whiff of your shampoo, the scent clouding over his usually sharp mind. Now, though, Megumi could barely recognize the hallways he walked on, relying only on you to lead the way. “So...how’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How about your studies? We have an exam next week – maybe you want to study together? Inumaki-senpai and I were supposed to have a study group with the others but everyone just wants to study by themselves,” you turned to him with a small smile, “I do better when I’m with someone though.”

Megumi managed to give you a split second glance before he darted his eyes back in front of him again, swallowing audibly because he couldn’t understand why you had to look so pretty smiling like that.

His palms grew sweaty with each passing second, and he grimaced at the uncomfortably feeling of his collar getting sticky. “Uh, wh-where would we study? We don’t have a library or anything.”

“The training grounds is refreshing, but I’d like it to do it better in my room.”

“Do what?” Megumi halted in his steps, his eyes blown wide at your words.

“Study, of course. What else?”

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be worried that you frowned in confusion, almost as if you didn’t understand the weight of your words. But then again, you’d always been so damn oblivious that it made sense. Megumi shook his head, continuing on to the teacher’s office before remembering he still lost his sense of direction, so he bit his lip, obediently following you around like a puppy.

“You shouldn’t just invite anyone to your room, you know.”

Once you both made it to the empty room, you carefully placed the books down on Satoru’s desk. He raised a brow at the extra detail you put into, tongue peeking out from the edges of your lips as you made sure all of them were placed together neatly.

Satisfied with your work, you clapped your hands and turned to him.

“I’m not. You’re not just anyone to me, Megumi,” Suddenly, you leaned over him, his mind screaming at him when your lips lowered down to his neck. Megumi’s spine stiffened so quick he might as well be a flat board, his chin pressed to his neck when he felt your teeth graze his exposed skin for a moment. “There’s a loose thread,” you showed him a small thread with a small smile, which fell as fast when you saw Megumi standing uncomfortably straight. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to invade your personal space like that!” “I’m a little weird, aren’t I? That would explain why you’ve been avoiding me. Do I make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not that...it’s just...”

“Just what?”

His mind blanked. Ask him anything about curses or their history and pretty much anything – he’d be able to answer – but not this. They didn’t teach this in the books and out of frantic nervousness, Megumi ended up spewing the first thing he could think of, his brows drawn together that only added to his intimidating look.

“I’m just annoyed that you scored higher than me on the previous exam.”

“Oh,” you fell for it, snapping your fingers together as you laughed. Somehow, the sound of your melodious laughter had his shoulders easing from the tension, the smallest of smiles hinting at the edge of his lips. Gosh, he was so whipped for you. “Was that really it? I thought you were avoiding me for something serious! Well, how about this, let’s study together and let’s see who’s the smarter one. The loser will get tickled to death!”

“I haven’t even agreed to that condition yet.”

“Okay, what do you want if you win?”

Megumi blushed as he blurted out, “You.”

Before he could regret what he just said, you scrunched your nose and pointed to yourself. “Me what? You want me to do something? You want me to buy you ice cream or—”

“Never mind,” he mumbled behind his palm that was now covering his mouth, refusing to show you that he actually wanted to laugh at how naive you could be. Not that he was complaining; it saved him great pain that you could never know his feelings for you. “I’ll ask for it when I’m sure I’ll win.”

“Ah, not a man of uncalculated risks, I see,” you ruffled his hair, the poor boy stiffening up again under your touch. “This is why I like you so much. You’re so thoughtful.”

“Please don’t touch my hair.”

Megumi was complaining, his shoulders raised beside his ears while he scowled at you, but the way a small, almost inaudible purr left his lips said otherwise. He didn’t want you touching his hair – only because he was shy and it would be the death of him if you saw how easily flustered he was around you.

Thankfully, you showered mercy upon him, raising your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, we should go back to class now.”

Megumi sighed in relief, content for now to walk you all the way back to class as you talked about your day. He wasn’t actually listening, but a stupid smile was there on his face, anyway. He likened the sound of your voice to those of birds chirping and sunshine waking – and he felt like he was the fresh earth you always kissed.

“You’re going to burn a hole in her if you keep staring at her like that.”

“Shut up,” Megumi averted his eyes away from you, stabbing his yogurt with his plastic fork. A part of him felt annoyed that you just had to look so pretty today, your bright voice filling in the cafeteria that put his constant sour mood to shame. The stark difference between you two made Megumi sigh in his seat, abandoning his fork as he leaned back. There was no way you’d like him back. “I wasn’t looking at anyone.”

“Ugh, why are boys so creepy? Staring at Y/N like that, ew.”

Yuuji ignored Nobara’s comment, and for once, Megumi let it slide when Nobara stealed his untouched yogurt. “Why don’t you just tell her you like her? She’s literally the sweetest person ever – the chances of her turning you down are low!”

Nobara snorted, “Yeah, but if the sweetest girl in school rejects you, that’s really humiliating. That would mean she likes everyone but you.”

Satoru popped out of nowhere – that stupid blindfolded bastard who started all this – his arms looped around Yuuji’s neck whose entire face illuminated at having his favourite teacher around. “I think the scary-looking Megumi-chan is actually just too shy to be confess,” he wiggled his eyebrows, pointing a finger fun to Megumi’s deadly narrowed gaze. “Can you believe it? My dark, brooding student is hopelessly in love with the cute, sunshine girl next door that he’s so scared around her? Isn’t that so adorable—”

“Everyone shut up!” he hissed through gritted teeth, “I’m not scared of anyone or anything.”

“Then tell her you like her.”

“Fine, I will.”

“I bet you ten dollars he won’t do it,” Satoru whispered, the two students who shared one brain cell beside him nodding eagerly.

“I said I will!”

“Good morning, Megumi! Come in, come in,” you ushered him in once he stood frozen at your door, his hands now awkwardly clutching his own notes. “You can take a seat on the bed.”

Megumi wasn’t nervous of the fact this was his first time visiting a girl’s room, but rather because it was yours, and each part of your room resembled you greatly. From the organized and clean space, but the noticeable adorable little trinkets and polaroids of you with everyone sticking on the wall, he could feel your entire soul living in that room. When his eyes landed on an old photo of you holding up the peace sign and noticed for the first time he was standing in the background, unaware he was captured in the frame, Megumi inhaled sharply.

Had you pretended to take a selfie just to see him there?

No, he shook his head, there was just no way. He really couldn’t ponder about it long enough because you’d dragged him by the sleeve until he was sitting right next to you, the fresh scent of your body wash making him feel stunningly warm inside his clothes even when the windows were open.

The whole time, Megumi couldn’t absorb a single thing you were saying.

He was just too distracted by everything about you – the way your lips moved when you spoke, how you’d tuck back a stray hair behind your ear, even to the way your mouth would form an ‘o’ shape as you learned something new. No, he couldn’t focus at all.

Megumi has lost count of the times he’d wiped his shaky, sweaty palms on the pads of his sweatpants, hitching his breath every time you leaned close to him to glance at his notes.

At this rate, he’d be the loser in your little competition. It was just impossible for him to focus on anything else.

“Megumi?” you waved your hands in front of him. When it wasn’t enough to get his attention, you resorted to flicking his forehead and he yelped, rubbing at the sore spot. He faced you, a complaint ready to be spoken when his eyes widened at the sudden lack of proximity, your nose booping against his. “Hello, Megumi? I’ve asked you the same question twice now and you haven’t answered yet.”

As nicely as he could, he pushed your face away, his heart thumping loudly when you laughed as you went back to your own space. “Sorry, could you repeat that? I wasn’t really listening.”

“Yeah, I can tell, you were just staring at me the whole time,” you held your phone up in front of your face, checking your reflection on the screen on different angles. He watched, enchanted by how gorgeous you looked no matter what side. “Is there something on my face...? I’ve been checking non-stop and I don’t see anything weird.”

Megumi swallowed nervously, “There’s nothing wrong with your face. I just can’t focus. You’re too close and I-I can smell you.”

“Do I smell bad?!”

“No, you don’t! You smell really sweet!”

“Aw, thanks! You smell sexy too,” you winked at him, wiggling your shoulders as if to share your scent with him. Megumi’s eyes widened when your shoulder rubbed against his, and he recoiled, arm placed over his nose to hide his emotions that were a train wreck right now.

“Sexy?” he spluttered, “Why would you say – me – sexy? You’re so weird, Y/N. You shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

You patted his thigh in a manner that should be comforting, but the teasing smile on your face only had him wanting to jump out the window even more. Then, you stood up and stretched the material of your shirt riding up until he caught sight of your navel. Megumi turned away and closed his eyes, cheeks trapped between his teeth. “We should take a break. Treat’s on me – where do you want to go?”

“Err,” he scratched the back of his head.

“Oh, don’t look too worried, it’s a weekend. Plus, Gojo-Sensei isn’t around to bother us or something.”

“You...you want to go out...” he drawled out slowly, tentatively, surely – just to make sure that he was hearing it right. “...with me?”

“Yeah, I did just ask where you want to go.”

“Oh,” Megumi nodded with a blank face. Then, your words sank in, and he folded his knees to his chest to hide his face and his sickly sweet smile, the butterflies in his stomach progressing into a fucking zoo. “Oh.”

“Are you sick? You’re so red,” your palm connected with his heated forehead, “Megumi, you’re burning! Should I take you to Ieri-san?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he pushed your hand away, still repudiating to look you in the eye. He just couldn’t, not when you were too inquisitive and he could easily give a dead clue before he got the chance to properly confess. “I mean, I don’t really have a certain place in mind. I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

He should’ve noticed it then – the mischievous glint in your eye that told him you weren’t up to no good. But because his knees always weakened around you, Megumi agreed way too eagerly than he’d like. “Just make sure you don’t regret it, okay? There’s something I’ve always been wanting to try but I never got the chance to and no one wanted to go with me, so you’ll be my willing victim!” And so, half an hour later, Megumi’s jaw dropped as the chill of the arena nipped at his skin. You didn’t even tell him to bring a jacket. “Ta-da!”

“Ice skating?”

You nodded happily, dragging him all the way to the shoe fittings. “It’s going to be fun, come on!”

“But I don’t know how to.”

“Neither do I!” Megumi wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know how to. No matter how much he tried so hard to learn, he just couldn’t balance himself. The sound of your laughter that let him know you enjoyed this way too much reached his ears as he glared at the ice, his ears red either from the cold or the humiliation of being an utter failure in front of you, of all people! “Need some help there, buddy?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking. And no, I can do this by myself.”

You masked your chuckle with a snicker, squatting to watch as he struggled to heave himself up back to his feet. “Really? You’ve fallen like, a hundred times now.”

“Shut up. Humans aren’t naturally supposed to do this anyway. We don’t have a human instinct to be upright – whoa!” Megumi slipped again from the ice, this time knocking you down with him. Instead of it being romantic where you two ended up gazing at each other with love in your eyes, your eyes widened into saucers as his elbow landed into your belly, crushing the wind out of your body.

“Ow!”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to – ugh, this is why I said it was a bad idea!”

All the way back home, Megumi was still entirely convinced it was a bad idea. You were limping beside him, having to use his bicep as a crutch with your head resting on his shoulder. You and your stupid ideas, really, now you were injured and sprained your ankle from the fall. Instead of worrying about your own safety, you only slapped your knee in laughter as the medics fixed you up, still in disbelief that Megumi had fallen a lot of times yet came out unscathed.

“Megumi~ are you still mad at me? Why won’t you talk to me?” you pouted, squeezing his bicep to get his attention.

“It’s because I told you it was dangerous. Look at you – your knees are all scraped and your legs are all wobbly. We’ve still got a long way back home.”

“Maybe you should carry me then.”

“C-carry you?”

“Yeah, so I don’t fall,” you snorted, pointing to your shoeless ankle covered in bandages. “I mean, it was your fault I’m injured. If you hadn’t fallen for me, then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Fallen for you? Did you know that he – ? Megumi’s head snapped to yours so hard he nearly had whiplash, but the only thing he could focus on was the pounding of drums within his chest. “F-fall? How did you know?”

“Megumi, you literally fell on top of me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten already.”

That had him blinking back, his face flattening into a blank expression. Then, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stopped in his tracks. “Sometimes I forget you’re terribly naive.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Now get on,” With burning cheeks and a heart that fluttered way too much than what was considered healthy, Megumi squatted down to the ground, patting his back with a groan. You less than jumped into his arms, a little too excited to get a piggyback ride and Megumi expressed his faux distress with a groan. You only pinched his ear and told him to pay you back for your injuries, which made him complain again.

In the end, he was just happy you couldn’t see how much he struggled to hide his smile then, for if you saw it, you’d surely believe he was crazy.

Or so he thought. By the time you’d gotten back to the dorms, you were long passed out on his back. There was a small patch of drool on the back of his shirt and he shuddered, then wiped it away by whispering to himself, it’s okay – as long as it’s you.

Padding back to the dorms wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be, considering everyone was almost asleep or out to the city as well.

Megumi gently laid you down on the bed, wrapping the blanket around you and making sure your head was comfortable on the pillow. He stayed there for a solid minute, just staring and memorizing your pretty features until he felt confident he could draw it upon memory. Not wanting to be creepy though, he cleared his throat, about to leave the room when your fingers tugged at his wrist.

“Megumi,” you moaned sleepily, “Don’t go. It’s too cold.”

“I’ll get you another blanket.”

“No, stay,” you whined, patting the space next to you. “Please?”

“To sleep here with you?” he asked, baffled and at the same time elated. The last thing he wanted to be was a pervert and he’d never outright admit that his thoughts of you hadn’t always been giggles and rainbows, but he pushed those down, reminding himself that this is you – he respected you above all else. His self restraint slowly thinned though, whatnot with you pouting up at him like that.

Megumi groaned and took off his shoes anyway, planting himself beside you. “This is insane. I think I’m losing my mind,” he muttered to himself. “Move over and make space for me,” you obediently followed his command, using his bicep as a pillow while your cheek squished against his chest. He wondered how you weren’t bothered by his heart’s beating, or maybe it soothed you to sleep because you were falling deeper and deeper asleep, burying yourself in his arms. “God, this is so uncomfortable. I feel like I’m crushing you—”

“So warm,” you cut him off, his mind turning completely mental as he felt your lips pad over his chin. “Goodnight, Megumi.”

How did you expect him to sleep now?

But as soon as you’d settled and only your stabled breathing could be heard from the room, Megumi’s eyes began to droop as well, and it didn’t take long before his arms relaxed around you, lazily pulling the covers up to cover the both of you.

He’ll tell you another time.

“MEGUMI!” you pushed through everyone and showed him your paper, the bold red mark of 100 glaring back at him. Before he could respond, you stole his test paper from him, laughing at the sad 98 that showed. “Ah, I won!” In the blink of an eye, you’d tackled him to the ground, your knees keeping his legs locked underneath you, test papers flying around the field. Your hands were relentless and brutal as it ran and poked up his sides, eliciting squeaky little gasps from him.

“Stop, stop!” Megumi doubled over in laughter, keeping his feet flat on the ground to prevent himself from accidentally kneeing you. He’d hurt you enough during the ice skating dilemma – he didn’t want to cause you anymore injuries. “No, stop!”

“I won, Megumi, I won! Face the tickle monster!”

“I said stop or else!” he warned, completely aware that he wasn’t as threatening or serious as he wanted to be when tears leaked from his eyes, his laughter embarrassingly giggly and high pitched.

“Or what, loser?”

“I’ll kiss you until you shut up!”

“That’s adorable, but let’s see you try!” you kept tickling his sides, the both of you completely oblivious that the rest of your classmates – your teacher who was more than supportive of this pairing included – were hiding behind a bush, their phones whipped out to capture each second of this moment. “Loser!”

As you mocked him one more time that you wouldn’t stop tickling “losers,” Megumi had to draw the line. Using all his strength, he flipped you over until you were underneath him, the sheer force of the impact keeping you nestled between his arms.

Both of you were panting, but this time his breath was taken away from how beautiful you looked under him like that. Such innocent eyes staring back up at him, but don’t think for a moment he didn’t notice how your eyes trailed over his lips. He knew – because he was doing the same, his grip subconsciously gripping harder at your wrists. If he leaned down...

“This is taking too long!” someone whined from behind the bushes, tips of white hair peaking from the plant. “Just kiss her already!”

Both of you turned at the source of the voice, simultaneously shouting, “Gojo-sensei?!”

“Don’t be shy, Megumi-kun! Just tell her already or I’ll tell her myself.”

“Tell me what?”

Now that your face was peering up at him, he knew he was trapped. Cornered. Megumi closed his eyes, hands trembling and losing their grip around you as he was confronted by the situation. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” he fumbled over his words, “But I...I actually—”

“Boring! What kind of confession is this? Say it louder and clearer or she won’t be impressed! Is that how a man does it, Megumi-kun? You can do better—”

“All of you, shut the fuck up!” he roared to his peers who only cackled around the bushes, Yuuji and Gojo-sensei doubling over in laughter while Toge bit his collar to stop the gleeful sounds leaving his mouth. Irritation and humiliation bubbling up in his chest, Megumi finally found the courage to confess. “I like you, okay? I’ve always had a crush—”

You sat up to wrap your arms around his neck, silencing him with a sloppy kiss. At first, your lips kissed the edges of his mouth before Megumi groaned, his large hand clasping the back of your neck to guide you to where he wanted you to be. Smiling through the kiss, you pulled away, rubbing your nose on him affectionately. “Me too, Megumi,” you giggled, “I like you too. Actually, no, I fell in love the moment you almost broke your nose on the ice—” he cut you off by kissing you again, his grip on your waist threatening, “Hey, no fair, I was still confessing!”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ll kiss you to make you shut up,” his confidence had now risen up, all traces of the shy Megumi now gone. “Now tell me that again. Tell me you like me.”

“Okay, but can I get another kiss?”

“You’ll be spoiled rotten.”

“I think I deserve it, don’t you think? I’m pretty cute – you’re lucky you get to kiss—” Megumi tugged you by your collar to slam your lips on his, his teeth nibbling at your lower lip. You tugged at his hair playfully and laughed, slapping his shoulder gently to tap out. “Fine, fine. I like you too!”

“Say it again. Please.”

“Not so shy now, eh, Megumi?” Satoru teased for the final time, and Megumi was so close to bursting a vein in his neck when his teacher showed up from the bushes, sexily posing on the grass as he winked at the both of you.

“SHUT UP!”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader imagines #megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi x reader romance #fushiguro megumi x reader fluff #megumi x reader romance #megumi x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen x you #fushiguro megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen crack #jujutsu kaisen comedy #suki: 500 milestone event

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tonguetiedraven · 2 years

Note

Hi, I was just wondering if you have any headcanons for Blue Exorcist?

I'm not sure why, but my mind went entirely blank when I saw this ask xD I've managed to mostly rally my brain cells back together and come up with a few for the exwires and a few general ones :) Rin

ADHD and Dyslexia. (Are those really still head canons or are they considered canon at this point?)

Really sensitive to textures and gets easily distracted and upset if he’s wearing scratchy things.

Loves cuddling. Platonic or romantic is fine. He just likes cuddling.

He has one of Shirou’s rosaries and keeps it with him at all times.

Always chewing on things. Pencils, pens, food, gum, fingernails, sticks, sleeves, anything he can get hold of.

Run’s warmer than most people but is always cold.

Bi. Boy is very bi and still realizing it about himself.

Never really gets sick, even before the demon thing. When he does he’s very quiet about it and tries to hide it until he can’t.

Likes shopping, and doesn’t really care what he’s shopping for. Anything is fun.

Loves kids and is really good with them. Wants some whenever he gets older.

Yukio

Always cold (it’s the depression.)

Loves sweets and never allows himself them.

Thinks slapstick is one of the greatest forms of comedy.

Adores puns and is quick to think of them.

Addicted to caffeine.

Knows Latin

Chose to get the Doctor Meister because Rin’s optimistic belief in him made him want to be a doctor.

Demisexual.

Shadow demons terrified him as a child, and it still makes him afraid of the dark even though he’ll never admit it.

Anal about having his books/manga in a certain order and gets really annoyed if they’re moved.

Ryuuji

Needs glasses and hates them so he bought himself contacts the minute he could.

He gets the migraine from his mother and they’re always aggravated by skipping meals. He carries protein bars around to help avoid missing meals.

Likes to draw/paint to relieve stress and keep himself loose for drawing magical circles. He likes to sketch his classmates and would be mortified if they ever saw his stuff.

Enjoys Japanese operas and has a few entirely memorized.

Gay and very private about it.

I think I have curry as his favorite food in every fic I write, lol. He strikes me as the type to feel guilty about loving something so unhealthy, and rarely allows himself the treat.

Doesn’t care for coffee at all but is addicted to green tea.

Crabby as hell if he has to stay up past his bedtime.

His prayer beads were gifted to him by his father when he was a child and just learning how to chant.

Has a hard time falling asleep without listening to chants.

Introvert and protective of his alone time. If he chooses to give it up for you, you’re important.

Konekomaru

The official bug removed. He has no fear of creepy-crawlies and has been tasked with getting rid of them since he was a kid because Renzou gets loud when there are bugs around.

Prefers reading nonfiction to anything else.

Hates getting up early but makes himself do it anyway.

Has gotten in trouble on numerous occasions for feeding stray cats around the temple.

Renzou

Thank to Rynoa’s fantastic work, I now headcanon him as disliking especially sweet things. He only eats sweets because he thinks girls likes them.

He’s extremely good at figuring out escape routes and always locates the obvious and not obvious exits whenever he goes someplace. Never know when you’re gonna need to escape.

Was scared of Yamantaka when he was little and still doesn’t fully know what to make of him.

He’s seen demons all his life and has always considered Bon and Konekomaru naive to dedicate their lives to fighting them without any real idea what they’re like.

Smart and tries very hard to hide it.

Shiemi

Extrovert but shy.

I also think she’s a demisexual.

She’s seen demons all her life, but they never scared her. She’s always assumed they were friendly unless proven otherwise.

She will prune any plant she’s near. It’s just a habit at this point.

She’ll poke around house plants and check their leaves and soil to make sure they’re happy.

Izumo

Ride or die friend. She will tease/mock you relentlessly and tear anyone apart who dares to do the same.

She knows how to knit and likes to make little dolls. She’s extremely bashful about gifting them.

She adores colorful gel pens and glitter pens.

Vegetarian

General head canons

Mephisto has the sky at True Cross rigged so the stars are visible.

Lewin is connected to Section 13, but not a full clone. I think he was a test subject as a child.

Kuro chases mice away from the dorms when he’s not hanging with Rin.

I head canon Takara is controlled entirely by the demon and in a sort of sleep paralysis state, very occasionally waking from it before the demon sends him back to sleep.

Demons sleep with their eyes partly open (Rin included) so they can keep mildly alert even while they’re asleep.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #aoex #asks #headcanons #aoex head canons #rin okumura #yukio okumura #ryuuji suguro #ryuji suguro #bon suguro #konekomaru miwa #renzou shima #shiemi moriyama #izumo kamiki

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wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Left Behind

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, death

A/N: hi! this was a request! hope you guys like this one! y’all can blame @midgardianweasley for this one. happy reading <3

anon requested: Natasha x fem! reader. Reader and Natasha were in a building on fire trying to get citizens out and a wooden beam lands on reader. It’s too heavy for Natasha to lift it but won’t give up. Reader is screaming for Natasha to go! Giving her a smile that everything will be okay! A fireman then pulls Natasha out of the building against her will seeing the whole building collapse in reader.

Summary: Natasha and Y/N go on a mission, but don’t make it back together.

Word Count: 1.6K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

You were an Avenger just like your girlfriend; Natasha. You had met the redhead when you first joined the team.

You were one of the highest-ranked S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Fury had decided to recruit you into the team of heroes. You had heard many stories about the Black Widow and to say you were a fan was an understatement.

You had an immense amount of respect for Natasha. Her past wasn’t a great one, but she turned her life around and made it beautiful. She didn’t let her mistakes define who she was and you admired that.

The assassin had taken a liking to you. You guys immediately hit it off. About six months after your arrival, you began dating Natasha.

Natasha’s room became yours too. You’d spend your nights laid on top of the redhead as she stroked your hair gently. You’d close your eyes and ask her to say anything because the sound of her voice was your favorite.

She’d sing Russian lullabies to you. You were the only person she’d ever let hear her sing. She said she was a terrible singer and not letting anyone hear her was a gift, but she was actually amazing at it.

Her husky voice sent chills down your spine whenever she would speak. So when she sang to you in Russian? You were speechless.

You felt blessed to know that Natasha was truly herself in your presence. No one had ever seen her true colors, until you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were the person that Natasha went to for everything.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Exhausted after a long mission? She’d run into your arms as soon as she’d land. Steve and Tony annoying the fuck out of her? She’d rant to you about how small their brains were.

Devastated after a mission had gone wrong? She’d find comfort in your presence and your words. You’d whisper soft reassurances against her ear as you’d rock your bodies side-to-side.

Receiving good news? You’d be the very first person she’d tell as the excitement took over her. You’d match her energy, feeling just as excited as her, if not more. Natasha would beam as you’d press a soft kiss to the crown of her head, mumbling an ‘i’m so proud of you’ against her scalp.

You were Natasha’s person and she was yours. You genuinely believed you were made for one another. From the way your hands fit like two pieces of a puzzle with one another, to the way your thoughts and ideas seemed to always align. You guys just got each other in a way no one else could.

So, naturally, you were always assigned partners on missions. You two had the best communication on the team which led to tons of successful missions. However, communication couldn’t prevent nor predict the surprises of enemies.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You and Natasha were sent undercover to a gala being held by one of the leaders of Hydra.

The goal was to capture him for questioning and keep him in custody. That should be easy, considering there was booze everywhere and everyone was either tipsy or black-out drunk.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Well yes, it would’ve been easy; if your cover hadn’t been blown.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were currently sat on the target’s lap as he not so subtly stared at your cleavage. You were with him in a private area further into the party, while Natasha remained in the public area.

The drunk man looked up at you and you smiled down at him; trying your best to hide your disgust. However, he didn’t smile back at you.

You were caught off guard when he abruptly shoved you off of his lap, your body colliding with the marble floor.

“You’re an Avenger. You bitch!” You quickly stood up at his words and attacked him. You spoke into your earpiece while fighting off the man.

“Nat, our cover has been blown. I need backup.” You said as the man landed a heavy punch onto your abdomen. You stumbled back and he took the opportunity to rush out of the room.

“взорвать это место, сейчас! (blow the place up, now!)”

Your eyes widened at his words. Before you could rush out of the room yourself, an explosion pushed you back. Your body collided with a wall and you let out a scream of agony as a beam from the ceiling landed on top of you.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The sounds of screams and the fire alarms accompanied the ringing in your ears. Your only thoughts being; your pain and Natasha.

She had been on her way over here before the bomb went off. Was she okay? Did she get hit by the force of the bomb? Was she gone?

You tried your best to lift the beam off of your body, but to no avail. You realized that a piece of metal that had been sticking out of the beam had lodged itself into your chest.

Your eyes tore away from the beam on top of you and landed on red locks. Natasha stumbled into the room; or at least, what was left of it anyway. She paused in her tracks at your state.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as her hands shot up to cover her mouth, a muffled gasp escaping her throat. She quickly got it together and rushed over to help you.

Nat got down on her knees, not caring about how harsh the rubble was against her bare skin. She moved to lift the beam, but you stopped her.

“Natty, no. If you lift it, I’ll bleed out.” You sent her a small smile before you began to cough. Natasha’s heart sunk to her stomach at the sight of blood pouring out of your mouth.

“I have to get you out of here, babe. We have a movie night planned, I have to make sure that still happens.” Nat tried to joke in an attempt to console you, but it was more to control her own fear than anything.

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of another explosion. The building quaked as flames began to invade the room. She needed to go; now.

You shook your hand that was sticking out from the beam slightly. Nat got the message and held your hand with both of hers tightly.

“You need to leave, honey. This place is going to collapse any minute now.” You croaked out, ignoring the metallic taste in your mouth.

“I’ll be damned if I leave you behind. If you’re going down, I’m going down with you.” You couldn’t help but smile as you took in every inch of Nat’s face.

She was absolutely beautiful. Even with the dust and dirt littering her face and her worried expression; she was still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

The flames began to rage. The smoke was beginning to cloud your vision of the woman in front of you. You rubbed one of her hands with the back of your thumb, not minding the pain that accompanied the action.

“Go. Now. It’s okay. I love you so much and you aren’t leaving me behind; you never would and I- I know that.”

You stuttered towards the end of the sentence as you were overcome by an intense chill. You were losing so much blood and it wasn’t going to be long now before you were gone.

Your eyes drifted towards a figure entering the room. A firefighter. His eyes widened as he noticed both of you. He rushed over to help you, but you stopped him.

“Hey buddy, I’m a goner regardless if you get this off of me or not. Get her out of here. You can’t save me, but you can save her.”

You managed to let out as another fit of coughs shook your body. More crimson liquid spilled out of your mouth and Natasha finally let her tears fall.

The man nodded solemnly before he grabbed Natasha by the waist. She struggled against his hold as she kicked and screamed; her arms reaching out for you.

“No! No! Please let me stay! I can’t leave you! You can’t leave me!” Natasha’s words paired with her tone of agony and desperation tore your heart apart.

All you could do was smile lovingly at her as you slowly felt the life leave your body. She was going to be okay eventually and that’s all you wanted for her.

“I love you, moya lyubov (my love). It’s okay. Take care of yourself.”

You spoke quietly, but it was loud enough for Natasha to hear. She watched as the bright light that once filled your irises turned to a blank stare.

Natasha fought even harder against the man’s firm grip as she sobbed out. He had finally managed to get the both of them out of the room and out of the building. This all happened in the span of a few minutes, but to Natasha, it felt like an eternity.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The firefighter placed Nat down once they were a good distance away from the building. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she ran towards the building, but before she could make it back in; the entire structure collapsed.

Natasha’s knees roughly hit the floor as she took in the sight. The building that you were in was nothing but broken concrete and rubble. You were buried beneath all of that carnage.

Natasha sobbed without care. She couldn’t give two fucks if people were staring at her with pity or sympathy. She had just lost the love of her life.

Natasha couldn’t help but blame herself. If she had gotten to the room sooner, she could’ve gotten the both of you out of there. You wouldn’t have been crushed by a beam.

She wouldn’t have had to watch as you bled out. She wouldn’t have had to witness firsthand; as the soul she had fallen in love with left the world.

Natasha cried out into the night. The chaos going on around her turned to white noise. Her surroundings were in slow motion as she mourned.

Each tear that fell from her eyes represented each obliterated possibility of a future with the woman she loved.

Each scream that left her mouth served as curses to every higher power there was, for so cruelly taking the love of her life; you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff angst #black widow x reader #black widow #request

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tobesolonely · 3 years

Text

apartment 41

hi y’all! this is my very VERY late submission for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s “To Lovers” challenge (thank u miss sadie for even still accepting this LOL) but here is some good ol fashioned strangers to lovers with the line, “will you stay the night?” . :D enjoy everyone!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, smut :)

word count: ~5.2k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

There were many things you loved about living on your own. You loved that your apartment was always clean. You loved that at the end of a long day, you could come back and brood in peace. You loved walking around in nothing but your underwear without the fear of anyone seeing you. You did things when you wanted, how you wanted. As a self-proclaimed introvert, there was nothing you loved more than living by yourself.

However, during slightly inconvenient moments like these, you wished you had someone else in the apartment with you.

You swore you’d been trying to get your favorite jar of pasta sauce open for at least the past ten minutes. It had been a long day at work, and at the moment all you wanted to do was heat the entire jar of sauce, boil a bunch of pasta, and call it a night. You were growing beyond frustrated–– you even contemplated just breaking the jar open. Ultimately, you decided against it lest you be met with a mouthful of glass.

Feeling defeated, you pick up your phone in frustration and hurriedly punch in your father’s number. The phone rings twice before he answers. “Hello? What’s up, hun?”

“Dad, what should I do if I can’t get this jar open? Like, it’s seriously glued shut,” you set it down on the counter probably a little too hard considering it was a glass jar. “I’m so hungry.”

“Did you try running it under hot water?”

You did.

“Hm. Try getting a good grip on it with a dish towel or something?”

Of course, you did.

“Well, I’m not driving over there just to open a jar for you,” your dad pauses. “You have neighbors, don’t you? Why don’t you knock on one of their doors?”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“No weirder than asking to borrow a cup of sugar.”

You thank your dad for the suggestion and hang up with him shortly after. He was right. You just needed someone to quickly open the jar for you and then you’d be back in your apartment, secluded from society until the next morning when you went into work. Besides, you’d been in your apartment for roughly three months now and you didn’t have a relationship with any of your neighbors. You figured now was as good a time as any to at least meet the person who lived directly across from you.

You slide on your slippers and clear the few steps it takes to reach your neighbor’s door. A faded ‘41’ was on their door, and a cheeky mat that read, ‘Did you call first?’ was at your feet.

You tried racking your brain for any memory of what your neighbor may look like, but you were drawing a blank. You were more to yourself than you initially thought you were and made a silent vow to become more social from this point on. You situate the jar of pasta sauce under your arm before placing two firm knocks against the door. Moments later, the door is flung open and you’re met with the smell of something delicious cooking, and a handsome, tall man donning a dirty apron.

“Hi, is everything alright?” he has a concerned look on his face as he looks over the top of your head and into your apartment.

“I— This is a little embarrassing,” you mumble, feeling your body grow warm. “I live by myself and I’ve been trying to get this jar of pasta sauce open for at least twenty minutes and I can’t. Do you think you can?”

His mouth slowly turns upwards into a smile before finally nodding, reaching out his hand to grab the jar of pasta sauce from you. “It’s pasta night at your place too, hmm?” His tongue is poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just gonna heat up the entire jar of sauce, boil some spaghetti noodles, and call it a night.”

The pop! of the jar causes you to jump slightly. “That doesn’t sound like very good pasta.”

You retrieve the pasta sauce from him, quietly thanking him. “It gets the job done.”

Your neighbor hums in agreement. “‘M sure it does. If you ever wanna taste some really good pasta though, y’know where I’ll be.”

“I do,” you nod. “Well, thank you again. I’ll let you go back to making your pasta sauce that is just way better than mine.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “I appreciate it. It wasn’t any problem at all, I’m here most evenings if you ever need help opening anything else, uh…” He trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Beautiful name. I’m Harry, by the way.”

You look down at the dirty hallway carpet, a wide smile on your face. “Thank you, Harry. It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”

“You too. Have a good night.”

You give him one more smile before turning on your heels and walking back inside your apartment, gently shutting the door. You quickly look out the peephole and catch him just as he’s closing his door, a dimpled-grin on his face.

It was Friday night when you finally got the chance to speak with him again. You were sitting on your kitchen stool nursing a glass of wine and waiting for your frozen pizza to heat in the oven when you heard someone coming down the hallway. As you had been doing all week since your interaction with Harry, you set your glass of wine down and shuffle over to your peephole, eyes scanning the small amount of hallway that was visible.

Harry comes into view seconds later, four overflowing bags of groceries precariously balanced along the length of his arms.

“Fuck.” You hear him mutter to himself. He attempts to reach in his pocket for his keys but once he realizes he can’t do so without setting at least one bag of groceries down, he lets out a loud huff in what you assume to be annoyance. You scuttle to your shoe rack and slip your shoes on before quickly flinging your door open.

“Hi! Need help?”

Harry jumps and you both watch as the contents of the bag he was getting ready to set down spill at his feet. “Now I do,” he’s already picking his groceries off the floor. “You scared the shit out of me. Also, were you watching me?”

Your face grows warm. “I heard someone coming down the hallway so I wanted to see who it was.”

“Oh, really?” Harry questions, pausing to look up at you. “You came out of your place so quickly, felt like I was bein’ watched or something.”

You know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he caught onto what you were doing so quickly. Instead of dignifying his statement with an answer, you bend down and begin helping him pick up his spilled groceries. His hand grazes yours lightly as you both reach for a can of black beans, now slightly dented. It lingers for a moment before he retracts it to retrieve a different item. A quick, side-eyed glance reveals that his cheeks are tinged red.

“What are you making for dinner?” You ask him, standing up and dusting off the knees of your leggings.

“Uh, veggie chili. S’one of my favorites–– hey, is something burning?”

Your eyes widen and you abruptly turn away from Harry without so much as a goodbye, hurrying toward your kitchen that was starting to grow foggy from smoke produced by your oven. You were so preoccupied with helping Harry gather up his spilled groceries that you had totally forgotten you had a frozen pizza in the oven and if the smell was any indication of its current state, it was most likely inedible at this point.

Reaching for the oven mitt you kept next to the knives on the counter, you open the oven and fan the smoke out of your face, holding back a gag from the burnt smell. Your fire alarm immediately goes off once you open the oven and Harry appears a second later, a concerned look on his face. He looks around for your smoke detector and once he sees it he stands on his tiptoes to turn it off. You set your now blackened pizza on top of the oven and turn on the microwave fan. Harry’s already opening windows around your apartment, fanning the air with a throw pillow from your couch.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a wave of embarrassment washing over your body. You feared that Harry probably thought you were the most incompetent person on this planet–– first, you couldn’t get a jar open, and now here you are nearly setting your apartment on fire. “Guess I should’ve set a timer, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘spose you should’ve,” he replies. “It’s okay, though. ‘M about to get started on dinner, you can join me? If you’d like, that is. Maybe you’ll have a new recipe so you can stop eatin’ all this frozen shit.”

“Leave my frozen foods out of this,” you playfully scold him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Thank you for the invite though, that would be great, actually. I’m gonna get this cleaned up and then I’ll be right over?”

“Sounds good,” he neatly situates your pillow back on the couch. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. Door will be unlocked.”

Once Harry’s gone, you move into action, quickly tossing the pizza into the trashcan before running to your bathroom. You try to remember if you brushed your teeth earlier that day but you can’t, so you brush them again just to be safe. You hastily examine yourself in the mirror before deciding you weren’t going to do anything more, not wanting to come off as trying too hard. You were almost one hundred percent certain Harry was just being neighborly–– nothing indicated that he found you attractive, so you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you found him to be the most stunning man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Locking your door, you clear the distance from your welcome mat to his in five steps flat, and take a deep breath before letting yourself in.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Harry had more skill in the kitchen than an everyday home-chef did. He all but floated around the room, chopping with ease and finesse. The two of you had settled into a comfortable silence as he worked and you watched. Billy Joel played softly over his Bluetooth speaker, and he’d occasionally stop what he was doing to take a sip of his wine and look over his shoulder at you, almost as if he was checking if you were still there because you were being so quiet.

Your head was starting to grow fuzzy as you finished your third glass of wine that night, so you make the (responsible) decision to cut yourself off for the night. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Course y’can,” he replies quietly, not stopping what he was doing. “Give me just a second and I’ll get ya––”

“Oh, I can get it myself. Just tell me where the cups are.”

Harry stops chopping and turns completely to face you, an amused look on his face. “You’re plastered, aren’t ya?”

“No? Why do you think that?”

Harry laughs. “You can’t hear yourself stumblin’ over your words, but I can. Jus’ stay right there and I’ll get your water. You want ice?”

“How do you know how to cook so well?”

“Culinary school,” he responds coolly. “Ice?”

You’re not sure if you are as drunk as Harry says you are, but you were currently finding the fact that Harry went to culinary school the coolest thing ever. “A chef? No way! What kind of chef?”

“I’m a Sous Chef. Gonna give ya a bit of ice.”

“I can’t believe I live across from a chef! No wonder you were giving me shit for eating canned pasta sauce,” you take the glass of water from Harry’s outstretched hand, thanking him. “Even your water tastes better than mine!”

“I think you’re just pissed, Y/N,” Harry responds, eyes crinkled from smiling. “Do y’like cooked carrots?” Your nose wrinkles in response to Harry’s question and he mutters something about how he’ll leave them out before turning back towards the stove to check on his food.

“How old are you, Harry?”

“Just turned twenty-seven. Yourself?”

“I’m twenty-four!” You exclaim, a little too excited. “Where are you from?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “England. What gave it away?”

“Your accent.”

He hums, a small smirk on his lips. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from here. Just moved back home from my college town but didn’t wanna move back in with my parents, so here I am.”

“No roommates, you said?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’, taking a big gulp of water. “You don’t either, do you? I just realized I haven’t heard or seen anyone else since I’ve been here.”

“I do not. I had a roommate when I first moved in but he ended up gettin’ engaged and moving in with his fiancée, so it’s just me for now. I think I like livin’ on my own better, though.” You watch as Harry reaches into his cabinet and retrieves two bowls and starts spooning your dinner into them. He sets the bowl in front of you and hands you a spoon, nodding at you to try it.

You bring a spoonful up to your mouth, blowing a few times before shoving it into your mouth. Your eyes widen at the amazing flavor that fills your mouth, and your eyes diverge to his. “This is incredible!”

Harry looks down at his bowl of food, a shy grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. Glad you like it.” He grabs his glass of wine from behind him and moves around to the other side of the island to sit next to you.

“Are you a vegetarian?” You ask, mouth full.

“Somewhat. I’m a pescatarian,” he shovels a spoonful of the chili into his mouth. “More wine?”

“I better not,” you reply, mind still fuzzy from all you’ve drunk throughout the night. “This is seriously so good, Harry. You’re cute, you can cook, you’re nice… you’re like, a triple threat!”

“Callin’ me cute?”

“C’mon, you know you are,” you answer boldly. “I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he takes a sip of wine. “You’re a pretty big looker yourself.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You flirted with me first.”

“So what if I did?”

Harry lets out a quiet scoff, going back to eating his food. After a moment he says, “I wouldn’t mind.” You smile to yourself and continue eating, bringing the bowl up to your lips and tipping your head back so you could get every last drop of Harry’s veggie chili. He gets up to get another helping of food as you get up to place your bowl in the sink, lifting your sleeves to wash it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he brushes past you, going back to where he was previously seated. “I’ll clean up later. Do y’want some dessert?”

“I think I will take some more wine,” you grab the bottle from the center of the island along with your glass, pouring a generous amount. “This is good. Nothing like the cheap bottles I get from Target.”

“I’m glad you like it. Thought I’d pull this one out tonight, always pairs well with dishes like this…” He trails off. “Anyway, yeah. Glad y’like it.”

You and Harry finish off the bottle of wine no more than thirty minutes later, having by now situated yourselves on his couch. He turned something onto the television (you think it was Iron Chef), but neither one of you were paying any attention to it. Harry was asking about what you studied in college, how you like your current career and your favorite things to do in your free time. You were asking him about England, his family back home, and why he chose to go to culinary school.

He has a way about him that captivates you— just completely pulls you in— and you never want to stop listening to him speak. Harry leans close to you when you talk, almost as if you’re telling him a secret that he doesn’t want to miss out on.

“I think ‘m jus’ as drunk as you are now,” Harry whispers, letting out an adorable giggle. “Goin’ into work tomorrow is gonna be a proper pain.”

“No one told you to try and outdrink me!” You yell, tucking your knees under your bottom. “Now we’re both drunk, what good does that do?”

“Think it’s more fun this way, don’t you?” Harry lets out a little burp, his face flushing. “Wanna help me clean the kitchen?”

“What happened to cleaning it later?” You stand up from the couch, wobbling slightly before catching your balance.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d get drunk off our arses and sit here talkin’ til one in the mornin’, did you?” He stands up as well, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back as he scooches past you.

“There’s no way it’s that late,” you retort, checking the time on your phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overextend my stay. I’ll help you clean this place up and then get going.”

Harry swats a hand in front of his face, shaking his head. “Overextend your stay? Of course y’didn’t, more than happy to have you here. Do you wanna wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash since I don’t know where anything goes.” You move to the sink and roll up your sleeves, moving the small number of dishes in the sink all to one side so you can fill the other side with water. Silence falls over you again as you clean the dishes from dinner and soon enough you’re done, drying your hands on your t-shirt.

“Thank you, Y/N. We make a good team, huh? Got that done quickly, didn’t we?” He folds the dishtowel in half neatly and hangs it over the handle of his oven.

“Yeah,” you yawn, slipping on your shoes that had been discarded earlier in the night by the door. “I’ll get out your hair and let you get to bed, then. Thank you for having me over and for cooking that delicious dinner, I enjoyed it. I owe you.”

“If it’s frozen food, don’t worry about it,” he jokes, moving to open the door for you. “If you want to cook me something, though…”

“How about I take you out for dinner? I stay out of the kitchen, and you’ll get something edible and halfway decent. A win-win?”

Harry laughs. “‘M lookin’ forward to it. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t decide between Italian or sushi but since you’re a pescetarian, I figured sushi was our best bet.”

Harry looks away from the menu and at you, clearing his throat before speaking. “That was really thoughtful. Surprised you remembered considering how loaded you were.”

“For the last time, I was not that drunk,” you defend yourself, gently kicking his calf from underneath the table. “By the end of the night, you had way more than me!”

“Maybe so,” he replies nonchalantly, looking back at the menu. “Let’s not forget who can handle their alcohol better, though.”

You let out an indignant hmph, and get to scouring the menu yourself. You didn’t eat sushi very often so you figured you’d probably just get whatever Harry got.

“Let’s do sake bombs.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sake bombs? Are you tryin’ to get me drunk again?”

“They’re fun! Just one?”

Harry shakes his head at you and grins before waving over the waitress, asking her politely for two sake bombs. She comes back a few minutes later with the alcohol and chopsticks balanced precariously on a tray, setting them in front of you and Harry respectively.

The waitress stands back and says, “Ichi… ni… san… sake bomb!” The two of you pound the table until your shot glasses fall into the cup and then you throw your heads back, chugging down the cocktail. When you finally finish chugging your drink and look back up at Harry, he’s staring at his watch as if he’s been waiting for you to finish for ages.

“Oh, you’re finally done? I was startin’ to grow old,” he teases, taking a sip of his water. “Do you know what you wanna order?”

“You’re annoying,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m gonna get whatever you get.”

“Really? You don’t have any preferences?”

You shake your head. “I don’t eat sushi very often so I honestly don’t know what I should get. I’ll try anything, though.”

“You really did pick this place just for me, didn’t you?” He has a teasing tone to his voice, but his gaze has softened.

“I told you I owed you, didn’t I?”

At this, Harry just gives you a small smirk and signals the waitress over once again to order for the both of you. While you wait for your food to come, you fall into easy conversation with Harry again. It seems like you can talk about anything under the sun with him–– no topic was off-limits, and nothing was awkward. He had to have been one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. He was well-traveled, knew several languages, and loved to sing and write music in his spare time. Although you felt your own life was rather boring in comparison to his, he made you feel just as accomplished and interesting as he was.

“That was good,” he tells you after you’ve both finished eating, wiping his mouth with his napkin and slouching in his chair slightly. “Think ‘m gonna need to unbutton my pants here in a second.”

“Me too,” you answer with a laugh, making eye contact with the waitress. You mouth, ‘check, please’ and she nods, reappearing at your table with the check. As you’re digging in your purse to pull out your wallet, Harry reaches over and grabs the check before you can even look at it. He reaches in his pants pocket for his wallet and slides his card in before you’ve even looked back up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did you forget that I’m the one that owes you?” He shrugs.

“You can make it up to me another way. Don’t worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly. The waitress comes back to collect the check from Harry and after he receives his receipt, he reaches into his wallet to place a cash tip for her on the table. “Ready to get home?”

Home. You know he only worded it that way because you live directly across from him, but you would like going “home home” with Harry, at least for tonight. There was no denying the sexual tension between the two of you was electric–– anyone who was paying attention to the two of you could probably sense it. You wordlessly nod and follow Harry out of the restaurant, intertwining your fingers with his when he holds his hand back for you to grab.

He stands on the curb and expertly hauls a cab, opening the door and gesturing your in ahead of him. Harry’s hand moves to rest on your leg as he makes small-talk with the taxi driver, asking him if he was having a busy night and how much longer he thought he’d be out for. Harry pays the cab fare and wishes the driver a good rest of his night before all but dragging you out of the taxi.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” You ask Harry, a teasing

“Oh? Did I misread the situation? I thought–– this is embarrassing, never mind…” his tight grip loosens on your hand but you pull him back into you, laughing at how adorable he was.

“Harry! I’m joking, I know what’s going on,” you rub your thumb across the top of his. “I was just messing with you.” You see him visibly let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t mess with me like that, Y/N!” You’re still standing outside of your apartment complex in the dark, as close to one another as you can be without completely melting into each other. He releases his hand from your tight grip and places it gently on your face instead. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, standing on your toes. Harry cranes his neck to meet your lips and presses them to yours softly, pulling back only when the both of you are near gasping for air.

“Was that nice?” He asks, thumb caressing your face. Your noses are pressed together and you just nod, still too breathless to speak. “Maybe we can take this inside, then?”

Once inside Harry’s apartment, he nearly rips off the new shirt you bought specifically for your date with him, discarding it by his door.

“Careful with that,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just got that today. Tag is still onnit.”

You feel Harry laugh into the side of your neck, walking your backward towards his couch. “I’ll cover the cost if it’s ruined then, how’s tha’?”

Harry sucks harshly on your neck, causing you to let out a low moan. “I guess that’s fine.”

“That’s fine?” Harry mocks you, guiding you onto the coach. You hum in agreement as you sink further down into the couch, letting out a sigh of bliss as he peppered kisses along your breast.

Your movements are needy— desperate. Neither one of you were trying to hide how badly you wanted to fuck the other. Harry smashing his lips onto yours once more, his breath warm and tongue salty from all the sushi he had earlier consumed. He attempts to pull his own shirt from his body while not breaking the kiss, and you let out a satisfied hum when he succeeds. Now you’re both shirtless and the only thing stopping you from fucking each other proper is being still fully clothed on your bottom halves.

“Can we get these off?” You ask, tugging at your own bottoms. Harry helps you pull down your tight jeans, struggling slightly to get them off your sweaty legs. Once your jeans are off your underwear follows immediately after, carelessly strewn around the room like the rest of your clothing.

“Y/N…” Harry hungrily takes the sight of your body in, eyes darkening with lust. “You might be the death of me, did ya know that?”

“I do now.”

He sucks on his index and middle fingers and lowers them down to your core, slipping them inside you with ease. You hadn’t realized how wet you were until Harry was knuckles deep, curling his fingers tantalizingly slow inside of you. “Do ya?”

You bite down hard on your lip, nodding at Harry’s rhetorical question. “Obviously.”

He flips the two of you over, so that you’re now straddling him and he’s laying below you. “Take what you want, then–– oh wait, condom?” You nod and move as Harry digs around in his pants, pulling out his wallet.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that keeps a condom in their wallet.”

He rips it open with his teeth in one swift motion and unbuckles his pants, giving himself a couple of quick strokes before sliding it on. “What if I am? Was quick and effective, wasn’t it?” He rests his hands on your hips and pulls you back on top of him, connecting his lips with yours again. “Now you can take what you want.”

Your hands move up to grip Harry’s shoulders as you slowly sink onto him, wincing at the stretch and burn an unfamiliar partner sometimes brings. You make eye contact with Harry as you take a moment to adjust to his size, noting how his grip on your hips gets even tighter.

“S’big,” you mutter, rolling your hips slightly. Below you, Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “So big.”

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“You already know. Don’t feel like being teased.”

Harry juts his hips up to meet you slamming down onto him, groaning out loudly from the pleasure the added motion brings. At one point he situates himself so he’s sitting straight up, using his left hand as a support for him to rest back on while his right hand is tweaking at your nipples. He’s letting out a slew of curse words, letting you know it felt just as good for him as it did for you.

“Ridin’ m’cock so good,” he says under his breath, bringing the hand that was playing with your nipples to rest in between your legs. Whenever you slam back onto him you feel him not only deep in the pit of your stomach but also on your clit, bringing you maximum pleasure. “Don’t be so quiet, let me know when ‘m makin’ you feel good, love.”

“I’m already close,” you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed at how it took Harry doing next to nothing to work an orgasm out of you. Well, not literally–– but it felt like it. “Feel s’good inside me, you’re so big.”

Harry lets out a low moan from your words, throwing his head back in pleasure. It hits the arm of his couch with a quiet thump but his pace doesn’t falter in the slightest. “You’re gonna make me cum if ya keep strokin’ my ego like that.”

“You asked for it,” you reply, changing your move from riding to grinding as you were starting to grow fatigued. “I’m close.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and let them roam the expanse of your body, wanting nothing more than to receive maximum pleasure.

“Can feel ya squeezin’ ‘round me,” Harry says, taking his lip in between his teeth. “Know you’re about to come, pet.”

"Harry..." you warn, your movements growing more desperate and sloppy. You weren't normally a selfish lover but your head was so clouded from pleasure, all you could think about at the moment was your release. Harry leans his head back on the couch again and now uses his two free hands to bring you to orgasm–– one is rubbing circles on your clit and the other one is gripping at your breasts as you use your last bit of strength to swivel your hips on him.

You're coming undone not ten seconds later, loudly moaning out the man's name who laid under you. You don't slow your movements, knowing he was right behind you.

"Y/N, fuck, 'm gonna come-" he lets out a low, guttural moan, coming immediately after announcing it.

The sounds of you trying to steady your breathing are the only sounds that fills the room as you both come down from your respective highs. Harry runs his hands along your bare body, eyes hooded from the orgasm that just wracked his body. As you’re beginning to uncurl yourself from Harry, he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Will you stay the night?”

You didn’t know what sleeping with Harry meant for your relationship going forward, but you were glad you knocked on Apartment 41.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #apartment 41 #thanks for reading!

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